


in the eyes of mortality

by akuzon



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: And maybe adding cute headcanons, OK LOOK. THE ZAGTHAN ISN'T HAPPENING FOR A LONG WHILE, Slow Burn, Well this was for an oc of mine that im still fleshing out, but he can be terrifying sometimes!, but im writing this for fun, especially for than and zagreus, learn to trust carefully, no beta we die like zagreus, the slowest of slowburns EVEEEEEEER, zagreus is soft and so kind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:09:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27180212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akuzon/pseuds/akuzon
Summary: A series of inter-connected oneshots detailing Zagreus' escape from the Underworld and attempts to navigate the mortal realm with you as his unwilling guide. Things absolutely gets a lot worse before they get any better.
Relationships: Thanatos & Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Zagreus (Hades Video Game) & Reader, Zagreus (Hades Video Game)/Reader
Comments: 76
Kudos: 354





	1. Chapter 1

you realize that something’s wrong the moment you set foot into the fields of Persephone’s apple orchards. it was silent. the sort of silent that carried the winds of trouble, as though the air held its very breath. the sun, though gracious it was, cowered away behind a multitude of clouds that told you to watch your step. the fields and _you_ were protected under the powers of Lady Persephone, but even then, it had its limitations. 

And the ever-fickle goddess was out traversing the towns, laying green in her steps. she trusted you to keep her grounds and pick at the bountiful fruits of her labour; however, you did not trust yourself to protect the orchards or yourself.

she was fickle and even _if_ the Lady had shown you favour – you were not so trusting of the gods’ favour (let Lord Zeus not smite you where you stood for such thoughts). you place your wicker basket filled with ripe apples before placing the other on the bronze dagger sheathed on your belt. you may not have the skills; however, the blade was the sharpest one you have ever known, able to cleave flesh like well-heated meat.

but you were not a warrior, a _victim_ of war if you were being honest, and the sensation of the blade’s leathered hilt sitting comfortably on your palm was enough to make your insides squirm with revulsion.

yet, you were charged with protecting the orchard, with protecting the lands that Lady Persephone had laid claim to, with honouring her by attempting to fulfill the debt that you could never hope to complete.

the sweetgrass whisper underneath your feet, sandals foregone, eyes flickering over the shadowed concealments with the alertness that would make the Goddess of the Hunt proud. nothing sang, nothing breathed, silence swallowing everything whole until the only thing that could be heard was the thud of your pounding heart and the whispered rasp of your breathing.

_by the gods, what is wrong?_

you prowl between the spaced trees, pausing at a meadow, untouched by human hands – a place that made you wonder if this was the area where Lady Persephone was first kidnapped by Lord Hades and made his bride.

And it happens.

the ground underneath the meadow creaks and groans in a crescendo shriek, the earth cracking open like a gaping maw of hell and you fall backwards on your ass, the blade clattering out of your hands when you do realize: _shit, it is hell!_

hot air, the sounds of tortured souls, and the smell of blood assaults you as with an undisguised horror, you watch as a man (a **god** , if you had to classify) crawl himself out of the pit with the urgency and desperate savagery within his two-coloured gaze that terrified you. this was someone who had experienced hell and was stronger for it.

he looks out, laurel wreath coloured strangely and flames licking at midnight-hair. before his eyes fall on you, sitting amid wildflowers with fear written on your face. “Where am I?”

you notice that he has his grip on his sword, flexing as though ready to run you through. your eyes flicker towards your fallen dagger, but decide against it. the difference in skill was already evident. your body was frozen, heart hammering against your pulse-point as you stammer out an answer, “t-the f-f-fields of Lady Persephone.”

he swings his head like a mighty bull’s, the furious desperation bleeding away to relief that sags broad shoulders. “Oh. I’m here. _Finally_.” he says with a great big sigh. “Could you take me to where she is?”

It takes a few seconds for you to answer, even longer to meet his eyes bravely (but your gaze darts away from that heart-racing moment of defiance). “My Lady is not h-here. She is… Is out.” 

“I see.” The man deflates, but not before noticing the looks you shot his blade. “Oh! Um, I’m not going to hurt you.” He sheathes the blade and spreads his arms wide in a welcoming gesture. Something that does not truly work if not for the fact that he was drenched from head-to-toe in gore from… human blood? monster blood? god blood? “My name is Zagreus. I am, erm, yeah. Here, let me help you—” Zagreus holds out a hand for you to take, but you don’t, scrambling to your feet in a nervous, flighty action.

(Lady Persephone had always said that you had the flightiness of a bird).

He frowns slightly at the blatant disregard for help, hand falling at his side. “So… could you?”

You weight the pros and cons of taking him into Lady Persephone’s abode. he might steal her precious items, but at the same time, that is where the protections were at their most powerful. no harm would befall you there, you think. “ok, i shall lead you there.” you bend to grab the dagger and sheathing it into your belt, stiffening at the way Zagreus stiffens before turning to walk back the shortest path back to the quaint cottage that Lady Persephone had made home to.

it was evident that the strange god was not accustomed to being led, considering the way he walked by your side, _two heads_ taller than you and twice as broad. even if you did not know what god he was, you could tell he was one. zagreus looked over and your eyes met. you duck your head to hide your curiousity.

the other laughs. “tell me: why are you working for the Lady Persephone?”

it takes a few tries for you to respond, but what comes out is: “My Lady saved me from poverty. My town was ravaged by war and death, and I was the lone survivor. She found me, nursed me back to health, and under my own volition, pledged myself to her service.”

zagreus hums, each footstep he made was imprinted with glowing red, orange and yellow, yet harmed none of the flora underneath. “then Ares and Thanatos was there.” he then says, rubbing his chin.

the cottage was already in view and you find yourself walking a bit faster to the doorway. “I’m sorry, did I overstep?” he blusters as he easily kept pace with you. if you weren’t so terrified, if you weren’t so mired with the memories of loss, you would have been endeared by the genuine care you could detect in his voice, but you shrug.

“it has been… a while,” you murmur, rubbing your arms. “And the memories are still fresh and painful for me.” you both arrive at the cottage, the hearty hearth belching out smoke and flowers that writhed in welcome at your arrival. your favourite was the lilies, whose petals brushed over your fingers sweetly upon greeting. “here is her cottage, she will most likely be here by nightfall, when Lady Artemis runs her chariot across the sky. but i make no promises.”

you enter the cottage, spacious on the inside despite the quaint nature on the outside, and you stifle a laugh at the way zagreus had to duck his head to enter. he makes to seat himself in the nearest chair, but was halted by a sharp throat-clearing. he looks up, brows arched.

“I would appreciate it if you washed up. i do not know what sort of…” you wrinkle your nose, gesturing to his bedraggled appearance, “gore has made its home on you, but Lady Persephone deserves to see you at your best.”

zagreus laughs loudly and straightens, walking out the door which led to the bathhouse.

you rub your temples, sighing loudly. _what had you gotten yourself into?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look, i know what happens to zagreus when he meets persephone. let's pretend that doesn't happen. (im keeping it vague for people who haven't finished the game yet lmao)

by the time Lady Persephone had deigned to return from her daily haunts across the bountiful lands, your predictions were correct, Lady Artemis had driven her moon-chariot across the night sky by the time she had returned. but before that, zagreus had been gracious enough to bathe in the rose water, and to drain it into the hungering ground.

(the lands were a strange thing, a thirst that can only be quenched by the life essence of gods, even if water was a paltry substitute)

you laid out a fresh chiton for the godling, hanging outside the door, from your critical eye - it was a flattering colour, a sweet lavender colour that made him look more boyish, lined with white in swirling, intricate designs that made him look princely.

however, being idle was not your way, and already, your foot tapped impatiently on the ground as hands fluttered over your sewing. and once the god had finished his bath, smelling like roses and skin a healthy sheen from olive oil imported from athens. 

he picked at the fluttering hem of his chiton, more bemused than anything else. you were quite sure that the finery that he had been bedazzled with was far superior than anything you had on this realm. “did you give me this?” the corner of his mouth was quirked in amusement, even moreso at the way you stared critically. “what? does it look bad on me?”

a snort huffs through your flared nostrils, a substitute for the bark of laughter that wanted to leap past your lips. “ _borrowed_ ,” you stressed. “it... looks flattering, but a bit small on you.” in the sense that his godly height and width strained against fabric, offering a view that made you fluster and avert your gaze politely in the guise of looking out the window. you pat your thighs and push yourself to your feet, stretching with the luxuriousness of the felines that liked to prowl through the home, hunting for the mice that squeaked underneath the floorboards and pilfered the cheese that you laid out for Lady Persephone to enjoy.

(she had no need for mortal sustenance; however, she enjoyed the taste and texture of food. more of a luxury than a necessity)

“you keep looking out the window, is there someplace you need to be?”

you’re wrested from idle musings (more like the rushing thoughts of what needs to be done) before nodding slightly, “demeter’s winter is coming soon. i need to pick the rest of the apples. she is not... _pleased_ with my kind this season.”

there’s a knowing look on his face, as though he understood the frigidity of the Goddess of seasons. “how could you tell?” he sounds curious enough that you oblige his godly curiousity and lead him out the door, standing on the sun-warmed sweet grass, the river burbling in coy delight nearby. “erm... I don’t get it.”

“tsk, slow down and feel.” you tilt your head, taking a deep inhale. “do you not smell that? the sharpness of Lady Demeter? the cold settling?” 

zagreus takes a deep inhale, face contorted in consideration before it falls, “not really. i just smell... freshness. you know, just fresh air.”

you have to laugh at that, shaking your head as you bend over to grab the wicker basket filled with apples, propped against your hip. “well, when one is at the mercy of the gods, you tend to notice the inclinations of them more often.” you dip your head and go back towards the area where you had begun your pickings before being coaxed by the appearance of zagreus. 

“were you a servant of the gods?” you leap a few feet in the air, dropping the basket and whirling around to find your impatient guest apologetically put his own wicker basket down and helped you pick your dropped items up. “sorry, didn’t meant to startle.”

“what are you---?” you shake your head. _whatever, he can do what he wishes_. “aren’t we all servants of the gods?”

the sharp-tongued retort makes him grin, reaching upwards, far above your head to grasp the red-rubied apples above and place them into his basket carelessly. “ _funny_ , but no. i mean, did you serve at the temples? like a priest or priestess?”

you shake your head, “that was not my vocation. there were a great many things i had hoped to do, but i am content where i am.” it’s almost time for dinner, but you staved your hunger with the choicest of apples - a crisp, sweet one whose flavour burst in your mouth. “tell me:” apples sweeten your words and lower your reticence. “what do gods eat in the underworld?”

you move closer, too aware of the heat that he emitted. like a fireplace from a distance and scanned his apples, picking out the best and juiciest one for him. after staring at it, zagreus takes it and takes a big bite out of it before moaning in the most obscene fashion, you look away with fluster. _dear gods, Lady Aphrodite is playing around today!_ “pomogranates, nectar...” his cheeks are filled with apple and juices run down his chin messily. “we don’t normally eat honestly.” zagreus swallows and licks his lips, studying the apple with unabashed delight. “this is _right_ delicious.”

“well, if you _do_ stay, i’ll make dessert with it.”

he perks up, looking too much like a puppy offered a slab of meat.

by the time Lady Artemis begins to harness her moon horses in the sky, and Lady Nyx begins to blanket the sky with ink blackness, you both return to the cottage and deposit the apples in a bin to be either preserved or saved over the winter. zagreus, in all of his eagerness, aided you in picking the best apples for dessert that night.

lady persephone returns without much fanfare, the door opening, and the cottage shuddering with the welcome return of its goddess.

you turn to her, hands clasped in front of your body respectfully, “my lady... the god zagreus...” you are interrupted by lady persephone whose verdant gaze fills with tears, throwing her arms out in welcome.

“my _son!”_ zagreus stands up and envelops his mother in a tight hug, her form swallowed by the sheer bulk of the other god.

“mother.” you hear the joy in his voice, the relief, and you feel something in yourself settle. there would be no quarrel today.

like all servants, you had mastered the gift of blending into the background - readying to make dinner and dessert, allowing mother and son to talk well into the night, the heathfire crackling in the background.

* * *

you do not know how long they have been talking, but it has been long enough that you retreat for the night, folding out a cot outside under an olive tree (gifted to lady persephone by lady athena), a slice of apple pie in your bowl, one leg brushing the ground listlessly.

perhaps you were far more tired, more drowsy than expected, but its the sound of someone stepping closer that has you sitting up and making the move to stand.

“no, _no_. don’t get up. i just wanted to...” you blink at the sight of zagreus - wearing an emerald green chiton that fitted his form much better than your lent clothes did, holding a bowl filled with smushed apple pie inside. “just see outside.”

“oh, i see.” you feel awkward, enough that you shuffle to the other side of the cot and pat behind you.

zagreus hesitates until you pat the cot more insistently, swinging your feet so that your back was to him. you wait for a few moments and when the cot dips, and the heat returns at your back, you know he’s taken your offer. however, you failed to calculate just how much more heavier he was in comparison to you because you start sliding back, backs pressed against each other. 

“oh! oh dear, I’m sorry---” a string of apologies start to leave your mouth like a river stream before zagreus laughs, his laurel wreath a light in this comforting darkness. 

“i don’t mind! it’s ok. no need to apologize.”

it takes a few seconds to settle, only because you were embarrassed and you never _dared_ to touch a god, but the warmth was... nice. you wait to see if he reneged his word, but relaxed slowly, air filled with the sound of crickets and the sweetness of baked dessert.

zagreus sighs deeply, head tilted up towards the blanket of stars, “we never had this in the underworld. well, i mean _kinda?_ but they were shining crystals in the ceiling. everything is so open.” you listen to him, not making any reply. after all, gods never really expected to hear a mortal speak. what was the term? seen, but not heard. “everything is so fresh and sweet and warm. the underworld had always been so cold, so distant. and just... it’s so lively here. is it always like this?”

the question makes you startle, “sometimes. this is a... sleepy part of the lands. there are more exciting parts. the cities, the oceans.” you poke at your apple pie. “i’ve always wanted to see more, _explore more_. but alas, i have no complaints about my life now.”

he turns his head surprised, brows arched and disconcerting mis-matched eyes wide at you. “really? have you never left this place?”

you shake your head slowly, “no, for the longest of times, Lady Persephone and the upkeep of her lands have always been my home. Besides, much could be done to a lone traveler like I, _especially_ a lone traveler without any combat experience.” you leave out the part where the thought of combat would make you drop into hysterics.

zagreus looks at you, something like pity, something like understanding. “i guess i kinda get it. but what about your family? don’t they miss you?” he knows that he had said something wrong the moment you look away, a gentle remorse creasing your features. “oh. i’m sorry.”

“it’s... it was a long time ago. i do not have any more family to speak of.”

it seemed that he didn’t know what to say. for all of his hatred of his own father, of his own dwellings, at least zagreus had the support of his family to tide him in his escape and journey. you bite the inside of your cheek, ashamed of the showing of your emotion. “there is no need to feel anything for me, it’s nothing.”

your heart throbs painfully in your chest, beating against the cage of your ribs. _no! it’s everything!_

_“_ but... i think it’s still affecting you.” war and death had a tendency to do that, not that zagreus could understand the futility of death much, but it was... a lot. “maybe...”

you set your shoulders, looking back upwards, “maybe nothing. what is in the past is in the past, nothing more. i thank you for your concern, but i have made peace in my grief.” it’s sharp when you reply, but you are tired of this conversation. perhaps he had the gift of ever-lasting life, but you are far too aware of your own mortality.

“i apologize. i’ve upset you.” he sounds like a puppy kicked, and you feel something inside of you soften marginally.

a sigh leaves your lips, “you were trying to comfort me, it’s fine. but for now? let us enjoy the stars.”

you both quiet, contenting yourselves with watching the stars until your bowls empty and stomachs full - mortality and godhood coexisting in quiet peace.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> why we don't sneak up on people with PTSD! i'd like to think that zagreus, for the most part, is relatively cordial, but there is a part of him that's waiting for the ball to drop and the underworld to catch up to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've got so many plans for random inter-connected oneshots. im just saying? get ready to be able to smooch than, meg, AND zag LMAOOO

zagreus, the prince of the underworld, as you have come to know him for the duration of his stay thus far, was an interesting god. unlike many of the gods you have come to known in the duration of your short life, much like his mother, he was a polite, gentle, sweet individual who seemed to turn away from the scheming machinations that was present both in olympus and the underworld. who delighted in the simplicity of existence.

but there was something deeper, something that you had recognized. there was deep-rooted impatience within him that reminded you of a warrior unsure of how to lay his blade to rest, eyes darting at the shadowy darkness of the lands, as though waiting for an enemy to leap out and be slain.

the prince did not luxuriate in war, not like his kin (or at least a particular one), but an existence dedicated towards slaying the wretched masses to escape made it difficult to relax in a place where peace was finally found.

perhaps it was your fault in failing to recognize that, failing to realize that there were just certain things that one mustn’t do when it came to warriors fresh from war.

it is one day you notice the prince staring out in the distance, just outside the threshold of the cottage. so lost in his thoughts that it appeared as though he nary breathed, midnight-black hair rustling slightly in the playful breeze of the perpetual summer that lady persephone’s protections offered (or was it lady demeter simply avoiding her daughter’s lands to soil with winter?)

your steps are nigh silent, a lightness to your feet that is birthed from years of not wanting to be heard, and you reach out to grasp his bicep or to tap his shoulder to ask what he wanted for lunch that day. but the moment you make contact with furnace-hot skin, he stirs into action.

one moment, you’re standing there, and the next, pain is bursting behind your eyelids like stars, the prince’s forearm braced against your neck in bruising tightness as he pins you against the wall of the cottage. he _snarls_ at you like a wolf, the feared blade at his hand, and in spite of everything, in spite of your instincts shrieking at you to claw your way out, you don’t.

instead, you remain still - a shaking trembling leaf that nary dared to breathe, eyes wide, a statue pinned underneath the uncaring hands of its sculptor.

when seconds pass, and battle-fury fades from red-green eyes, zagreus blinks out of his trauma-induced response and stumbles back, blade clattering with a dulled thud onto the grass. fire-flickering feet flash against the grass, horror evident in his expression, helpless, apologetic.

you could already feel the bruises forming at your neck and thanked the gods that he didn’t manage to snap your neck or your spine with how aggressively he slammed you against the cottage.

“mate, i’m… i’m—” he tries and fails to string together a multitude of apologies, too reminiscent of string unspooling ceaselessly, and tries to reach out. it is an action that makes you flinch, and in spite of yourself, you know that you are still trembling like a little leaf tossed in the throes of a hurricane.

he tries again to reach out, and you run.

you run, heels flashing like licks of flame on the ground, unhearing of the way zagreus called out for you to return. lord hermes would be pleased with how fleet-footed you were.

zagreus finds you, an hour later, near the top-most branch of an oak tree - its dryad long dead, on a thick branch that you found big enough for you to sit on whenever you felt troubled. he approaches the tree with the same openness of approaching a skittish, wounded animal. and it takes everything to swallow the fear that lumped at your throat.

he looks up, your form swallowed by the mass of foliage, interrupted by the briefest glimpse of legs swinging. a sigh comes from the prince, as he seats himself at the base of the tree. “—– i’m sorry.” he eventually says, picking at the grass and tossing it away from him. “i did not intend to hurt you. or to scare you.”

you did not deign to answer, long enough zagreus squirmed, but: “i know.” you sigh similarly, weary almost. “i accept your apology. i should have known better than to walk up behind you like that.”

the prince attempts to see you, but it was as though the tree blocked you from view; for no matter how he moved his head, the branches always obscured.

the silence reigned for torturous seconds, you, sitting on your favoured spot and trying to will away the anxiety-thump of your heart. and zagreus, sitting at the base of the tree, guilt swelling his god-heart to uncomfortable degrees. 

“this tree used to have a dryad, you know.” zagreus startles and makes the abortive movement to look up, but decides otherwise - contenting himself with picking up a leaf and rolling the stem betwixt his fingers so that it spun. “their name was speio.” you pull your fall-roughened knees to your chest. 

“was?”

you tried to tamp down the sadness, a grief that left you numb and unfeeling. “was,” came the agreement. “they died a few months back. an ancient sickness that left them weak and took them to the underworld.” there was a thought to ask if zagreus had seen them wandering the underworld as a shade before banishing it. he probably wouldn’t know them, the shades that walked about were in multitudes and most likely beneath his notice (a product of his upbringing). “they were my friend and whenever i felt too alone or sad, i would come here and speio would comfort me. even if the dryad is gone, i know that the tree still protects me, still comforts me in the way speio would if they were still here.”

zagreus considers the leaf in his hands, blade back at the cottage, sequestered safely in the room that they had prepared for him. “why are you telling me this? i mean, i’m _honoured_ , but…” he trails off uncertainly. he doesn’t hear you answer for a bit, only realizes that you’re not in the tree any longer and standing before him.

“i just wanted to tell you that i…” you look away slightly, as though flustered, “— still trust you. i’m not afraid _of_ you.” reflexively, you hold out your hand for the prince to take.

and he does! much to your surprise.

but what baffles you is the… heaviness of the god prince. he laughs loudly at the way you dug your heels into the dirt, forehead shining with sweat, at the way you struggled. before he helped you pick him up. your hands lingered for a second before letting go. “for someone who i saw wrestle a boar once, you are surprisingly weak.”

it was a jest that makes you roll your eyes in camaraderie, “you gods are just made different,” you grumble, padding back towards the cottage. zagreus nudges you, hard enough that you stumble to the side (you found that centuries within the underground, deprived of warmth and touch, made him hunger for it as well - normally, gods would shy away at physical contact with mortals). you give him a dirty look and shove him back, mouth unmoving at his laughter, even if there was a telltale softness in your gaze.

“tell me: what do you want for lunch?”

zagreus smiles, delighted. “i thought you’d never ask.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you accept a group of weary travellers into the cottage and it does not go well...

trouble comes in the form of bedraggled travelers - stinking with the scent of journey-sweat, the ghost of blood, and strong brows streaked with dirt. they stood on the the threshold of the door, intimidating and tall enough to block the sun with their heads. Some were injured, supported by his compatriots, and the leader, aegeus, did not look any better.

“My name is aegeus of athens. My men and i need aid, if you are amenable to helping?” as if there was any question, as if there were any part of you that would ever deny helping out those in need. (lady hestia had always had a soft spot in your chest, and something inside you pulses with a warm pleasure).

You dry your hands on a nearby cloth, draped over your shoulder, smiling close-lipped in welcome. “Of course, you will find safety in the lands here.” however, you do pause, turning your head towards the stairs that housed the slumbering god prince - much to your exasperation, he was too much like a cat, sleeping deeply whenever he did. If you had to wager a guess, he would rouse well-past noon, only coaxed to wakefulness by the smell of lunch.

(you spoil him awfully, plans to slaughter a cow in the name of the gods and prepare a meal of kings)

Aegeus smiles at you, teeth pearly, arch of his nose hooked and strong, dark eyes obscured by the boyish curls not tamed by the purple-dyed headband that pinned locks back from his face fruitlessly. Perhaps you stare too long; for his brow arches and you avert your gaze to stir into action. “Ah, erm, i shall set out cots out back and bring out my medical supplies. I’m afraid they are rudimentary at best, so cleaning wounds and binding bandages are the best I could do.”

The leader of the group waves a careless hand, corners of his eyes crinkling kindly. “Worry not, my men shall clean themselves up. We only desire more rest.”

Your head bobs in a single nod, directing the small motley group towards the back where they could find rest on hay bales, the straw cushioning. There was a strange magic in the lands that lady persephone tilled, a gentleness in everything she did that translated to the earth in equal. You hear them, ears pricked for danger, sigh at the truest sense of the word ‘reprieve’.

Much like the bees that buzz in the cradle of branches, you busy yourself with gathering the appropriate supplies - laying fresh fruits and baked bread into a basket before hurrying outside in lithe steps. You distribute your wares carefully, smiling with the slightest quirk at the corner of your mouth.

All the while, Aegeus watches with the simple delight of seeing his men resting and able to fully relax the hard jut of weary shoulders. He accepts the fruit and bread graciously, “we do not know how to thank you generosity, it is beyond what we had hoped for.”

You shrug slightly. modesty was in your blood and you are never someone who could ever find comfort in the gratitude of others, even if it was well-warranted. (the lands that edged the outskirts of lady persephone’s fields were wild ones, ones that lady artemis delighted in hunting in. it was no place for men). “no need for thanks.” you say after a few awkward seconds, at which you deigned to look up at aegeus who simply watched you in amusement.

shyness was not a part of your normal build, but something about aegeus elicits something within you - a certain flightiness that makes you want to shift in place and to run. brows furrow together before you start pulling out cots for the men to rest at during the night - the lady of the house was not due back to the cottage for a week’s time, so you knew that she wouldn’t protest against it. not that you were going to attempt to hide this whole affair in general.

although, something does strike you as strange. the briefest blink of action, or more accurately, action that should have  _ been _ , that caught your eye. the same man who grimaced and groaned about an apparent head wound was laughing freely, tossing his head without a care, as though he were not injured at all. but suddenly, aegeus was in front of you - a flicker of movement that has you startling and clutching the basket closer to your chest.

“fair helper of the gods, would it be too much to ask for water to quench our thirst? we would drink the river water, but it is well-known to be the Styx, and we do not fancy an early journey to the underworld.” he looms over you somehow, face arranged in serene calm, yet eyes betraying a hardness that has you  _ nearly _ taking a step back.

but when faced with wolves, turning to run is the worst one could do.

your mouth is dry, hands white-knuckling its grip around the handle, as you nod and carefully, with the awareness of deer - retreat to the the cottage.

instead of the empty kitchen with lentil soup simmering over the tripod cauldron with friendly licks of fire underneath the heated metal, you find the audacious prince of the underworld sneaking a sip! 

“zagreus! stop sneaking!” he peeks one eye open, the red one, expression torn between guilt and bliss. but you were never that good in remaining firm, even if firmness was warranted. how do you think the cats that prowled about stayed well-fed and plump? you try your hardest to frown, but the attempt shatters as you pass by him and throw a piece of bread at him from the pile, eyes crinkling at both the easy catch and the delightful crunch of food well-cooked. “if you’re going to  _ sneak  _ my food, at least try the bread with it.”

prince zagreus, scourge of the underworld wretches, snorts out a laugh, as he does what you instruct. while he may have the stubbornness of a bull, you find that he has the tendency to go along with what you say... well, majority of the time. his eyes widen before his features melt in orgasmic bliss that would have lady aphrodite cooing. “ugh, this is  _ delicious _ . are you sure you aren’t the deity of cooking?”

it’s well-meaning and one that makes you laugh, thwapping him with a clothe. “ha, ha. flatter me all you like, prince zagreus, but you won’t be able to sneak food before the allotted time.”

the god pouts for two reason: “it was worth a try, and what did i say about calling me  _ prince _ zagreus, it’s just zagreus.” he never did like reminder of his own status - found it to be isolating in ways he did not wish to revisit any longer.

you laugh and place a tray in his hands, loading cups onto it, while you carried a pitcher of water. “alright,  _ just _ zagreus. come help me give water to our guests.”

“who?”

“just injured travellers that need a place to stay at before continuing on with their journey.” zagreus looks towards the back where you both can hear the boisterous laughter of men before nodding and walking to help give water. 

(it did feel awfully nice to be able to boss someone of zagreus’ personage around)

but he stops just a few steps away from the back door, suddenly enough that you bump into him and spill a bit of water on your chiton, nose mashing against his solid back muscles without remorse. involuntarily, you squeak, “ow! zagreus!----” 

before the ringing cries of weapons being unsheathed has you stiffening and zagreus dropping the tray of cups with a shattering echo that makes you wince. you try edge out from behind him, to peek around his bulk to see  _ what the Hades is going on _ , but he throws out an arm to keep you behind him - protective. if you were terrified for your life, you would be endeared - but for the moment, you were  _ terrified beyond reproach _ .

“what matter of god-abomination are you!” one of the men yelled, hefting an expertly-crafted bow in his hands, glinting arrowhead trained on the prince.

the prince growls, eyes glinting dangerously and hands flexing into fists. something battle-hungry swirled in the depths of his being, only stayed by your hands, curled tightly into the back of his chiton. leashed by your own fear. “who  _ are _ you!?” he demands harshly, moving in such a way that you could tell he was herding you back into the cottage. 

however, you dig your heels in stubbornly, nearly folding yourself against his back. 

“it would bode wise for you to answer our questions, we are not merciful men.” the once-kind tone of aegeus warps into something oily, something that truly makes your skin crawl. a conniving fox who found rest in the hen’s coup and is preparing to consume all of the chickens. you, the fool who opened your doors for the predator. 

the implication of the tone was clear. alone, zagreus would have a chance to fight, but with you there? it would make it far more difficult. zagreus grinds his teeth together, “my name is zagreus, son of persephone and hades.”

you think that it would be the end of that, but suddenly, zagreus sweeps you up in his mighty arms and barrels through the back door - slamming it shut with his back. already you can hear the thud of weapons against the creaking wood and the cacophonous shouts of men hungering for something you didn’t understand. 

perhaps you are screaming, perhaps you are not. but in your tunnel vision, all you can see is prince zagreus holding your face as though it was the most precious thing he’s ever known, “--- listening, are you  _ listening!”  _ you blink before nodding as best as you could in his hands. “i want you to hide underneath the stairs, curl up into a ball and cover your ears.  _ do not come out unless i get you _ , ok?”

your hands shake and curl around his wrists, “but what about you?! you-- you’re outnumbered and they look-”

he squishes your face until all protest ceases, face smoothing into confidence, “don’t worry about me. i got this, i’ve faced a lot worse. go.  _ go _ .”

zagreus nudges you to the stairs where you curl up under it, pressing your hands against your ears hard enough to make them ring, as he runs upstairs to retrieve his weapon.

your heartbeat thunders in your chest in unrelenting thuds and you count:  _ one apple, two apples, three apples, four... _

by the time you reach eighty-three apples, something taps your back and you shoot up in alarm, bumping your head against the underside of a step. you yelp and zagreus hisses through his teeth, reaching over to rub the place where no doubt a bump was going to form.

through your tears you see him, splattered a bit with blood and... “zagreus! you’re--- you’re  **bleeding** .”

he looks down at his side where an open wound was sluggishly bleeding red (don’t gods bleed gold? do gods bleed at all?), far too non-chalant for your liking, “it... would seem so.”

you crawl from your place and drag him into the chair, ignoring the bodies laying outside, swallowing down the bile that threatened to rise at the blood that caked his body. “does it hurt?” you look for your bandages, the kitchen remarkably intact despite the fact that the door was beaten down and had sword slashes and arrows sticking out of it. “silly question - it does.”

“not  _ that _ bad. i’d had worse...”

there’s another pitcher empty nearby, and you fill it with warm water, snagging a clean cloth. tipping the pitcher, you start cleaning the wound, wrinkling your nose and ignoring the way your skin crawled. it was silent, the only sounds being the hisses of stifled pain, the whispers of fabric. you stand up, and grab another cloth and dip it into the pitcher of water before cupping the prince’s chin and wiping away the blood that found its way onto his face. it felt... intimate standing between his open legs, scrutinizing his face for anymore injuries.

you make it up to his neck before you realize just what you were doing. 

_ what in the gods’ name am i doing? _

you clear your throat and take a step back, skin prickling for another reason from the  _ look _ that the prince gave you, looking to the side. the cloth, stained with red, twists uncertainly between your fingers. “i’m sorry. i... i should’ve known better. i caused you to get hurt.” guilt saturates your tone, enough that zagreus reaches out, hand around your wrist carefully. 

“hey.  _ hey _ , don’t talk like that. it’s not your fault. you were being kind and they took advantage of that.”

“but i should have been more wary!” you protest, yet allowed yourself to step closer, close enough that zagreus can pull you into a loose hug, shushing you gently. you don’t cry, lost the ability to do so for a long time, but it was close. eventually, the chaos lifts and you pull away, feeling more put-together (you suspect that a breakdown was in order later when zagreus wasn’t around). “... did you get all of them?”

the prince’s countenance darkens, hand curled into a tight fist against his thigh. “no, the leader got away.”

_ that _ makes you shiver. aegeus... was more than he seemed, and he appeared to be the type of man to not forgive and forget. but he was gone and that is what mattered. “oh.” you bite your lower lip and look towards the back, “what do we do about the bodies?”

zagreus pats your hand where it rested on the table, “don’t worry, i’ll take care of it.” uncertainly, you nod your head. frazzled by the day’s events. 

“well, i suppose... lunch is in order. go clean yourself up, you stink.” you manage to muster up a smile at the way he pouted and whined, helping him to his feet (although he  _ did _ playfully make sure you couldn’t tug him up), and nudging him to get cleaned.

as you spooned lentil soup into the bowls, your troubled mind goes to aegeus, before you shake it violently.

it would bode well for you to banish that from your mind, nothing would come from it. after all, no one would dare to cross the gods.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you burn some bodies, meet than, and have one crisis after another. but then again, how is that new for you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one made me sO SOFT.... I LOVED WRITING IT.

“you really don’t need to be here for it.” night had fallen and darkness shrouded the overt violence that had occurred that day, the stars trembling and looking away at the savagery of death inflicted so callously. zagreus holds a torch, the flames casting a ghoulish glow over both your features and illuminating the bodies piled on pieces of kindling - a burial pyre.

_are their mothers grieving, waiting for them?  
are their fathers sharpening their spears for vengeance?  
are their wives and children left without a piece of their family?_

such a carelessness in burial, in ritual makes you shudder, guilt curdling your stomach so viciously that you near expel the contents of your stomach. zagreus, of course, did not understand the rituals of man, did not understand what needed to be done in order for them to cross the river Styx by the boatsman Charon and to find home in the underworld.

yet, he does not complain when you press a golden drachma into their calloused palms, scared and roughened by combat. only to be slain by someone whom they believed would aid them.

lord zeus and lady hestia would cast curses upon you…

you scatter dirt on their forms, cinching your pouch of coins tightly and taking a step back. “ok, i’m ready.”

zagreus offers you a sidelong look, lingering in slightly concern. even he could tell that you were not made for combat, not made for war like he was. you could only watch as he tosses the torch onto their bodies, erupting into flames and sparks floating to join the stars above before being kidnapped by the telltale breeze.

the prince does not say anything much as you offer prayers towards their safe journey and for forgiveness for the both of them, desecrating the sanctity of home. you pour libations onto the ground, a blessing and offering to the Chthonic gods. 

the words come easy, come familiar. After all, you were the one to hold funerals for your town that all perished, the temple’s priestess murdered at the steps of her patron’s temple. Blood had run that day like the ocean that lapped at the shore.

you fall silent, crossing your arms tightly, jumping when zagreus places a hand gently on the curve of a shoulder - thumb rubbing exposed skin sweetly. “are you ok? this was… i’m sorry, i didn’t— they were going to hurt us, hurt _you_. and i… couldn’t let that happen.”

and the tight ball of pain eased into something warm, the tightness of your shoulders loosening. because in the short time you’ve known him, there’s a steadfast loyalty in him that settles the fear in your heart.

a sigh brushes your lips, staring at the pyre until spots danced before your gaze. “i know. i appreciate that.” your words is weary, bone-tired, something that you haven’t felt in a long time. you were never exactly the most verbose of individuals, especially concerning words that betrayed your true inner self. you were always so used to hiding behind a mask crafted from necessity. 

he squeezes your shoulder lightly, heat lingering when his hand falls away.

you think your eyes are tricking you, but as the flames begin to die down, blackened ash settling as smears upon verdant ground, something ghostly rises from mound. eight shades that stand, corporeal forms shuddering, turning to consider them carefully. 

it makes you take a step back, hackles lifting in alarm at the sight of something so unnatural. after all, one does not see shades unless they were close to death themselves. 

“he should be here soon.” zagreus mutters to himself softly, features drawn in faint anguish that it makes you want to reach out - but in your infinite cowardice, you hold back.

_he_ does not take long to arrive, the air ringing with the ominous clang of something stricking metal and before you, in a flash of blue comes a being so ethereal, so awe-striking, you cannot help, but stare. reaper cloth drapes his form, golden pauldron curling from his right shoulder and right arm encased in a clawed gauntlet. his eyes were of melted gold, hair and lashes as white as the virgin snow and skin the colour of pallid, dead flesh.

yet something about him was familiar, in the moroseness that surrounded him, in the grief that seemed to linger at his feet.

the thought strikes you at the same time zagreus breathes out, “ _Thanatos”_

impassively, death incarnate’s gaze sweeps over you as though you were nothing more than a bug before settling on zagreus. the corner of his mouth curled downward. “zagreus, you made it.” even if the words were monotone, it was enough to make the prince wince slightly. “you do realize that you are setting things into motion that you do not understand. i hope you’re happy.”

zagreus frowns, gaze firmly pinned on the god, “you know why i had to come up here. my _mother_ is here and there’s just… so many things i don’t understand yet, so many pieces missing. are you really going to begrudge me for wanting to know myself more?”

the words were harsh, yet you can sense a history between the two of them. something deeper than association of godhood. while you couldn’t boast much, you are someone who knows the character of individuals fairly well, and you can tell - there was a fondness between the both of them. 

lord thanatos scoffs loudly, “ _know yourself?_ don’t make me laugh, zagreus. you had everything down there and you gave it all up for _this_?” he sweeps his hand in a wide gesture at the empty fields, crickets chirping their melody sweetly. “there’s nothing here. nothing of worth, anyways.” 

you couldn’t help, but feel as though it was a sort of back-handed comment to you. careful to keep your gaze pinned firmly on the ground.

“stop it. _stop it_. what are you doing here? if father sent you to get me back, i won’t. not without a fight.” even if his words are brave, there’s a weary tone that underlaid it, and you know that if anything, he wanted to avoid fighting the other god as much as possible.

“would you believe me if i said that i was going to harvest these souls?” he swipes his scythe lightning-quick through the eight shades, their forms flickering before wisping away. zagreus tosses him an unimpressed look, brow arched and arms crossed over his chest. “ _fine_. that and i wanted to see y— where you were. what the place was like.” lord thanatos looks around curiously, nothing sparking in his gaze that indicated that he truly cared about lady persephone’s fields.

(although you are indignant on the goddess’s behalf, her lands were the most beautiful of them all)

you feel the prick of metal claws underneath your chin, tipping your head back to meet the golden eyes of lord thanatos, brow arched as though to say: _are you a part of the reason he wants to stay?_ “and _who’s this?”_

“Than.” you hear zagreus say in warning, light threat that lingers in his voice.

Lord Thanatos laughs slightly, “relax, zag. i won’t do anything to hurt your little mortal toy. now tell me, who _are_ you?”

there’s a defiant part of you that wanted to seal your lips and stare back, but such impunity was something that was not welcome by any deity and if you wanted to keep your head - you would answer.

“I– I am the servant to lady persephone. i have been here for a while…” you feel your hands shake, palms start sweating, and for some reason, you cannot _look away_ from Lord Thanatos’ eyes, so magnetic, so hypnotic, it’s as though you were falling. until the illusion was shattered with the way death incarnate pulled back, claws tickling the underside of your chin _almost_ -playfully, satisfied with the truth in your words. 

nonetheless, you feel like a pet. your cheeks burn as you stumble forward, sure-footed legs wobbling enough that zagreus reaches forward to curl an arm around your waist to make sure you didn’t fall. “what did you do?!” even if there was fondness between the both of them, zagreus looked ready to punch lord thanatos.

he quirks a slight smile, teasing and playful. “i didn’t hurt them, i just want to see the truth in their words. and they were telling the truth.”

you manage to find your bearings, brows furrowed and with minimal struggle (zagreus had tightened his grip, thinking you were going to collapse), managed to extract yourself from the prince’s embrace. “i don’t make it a habit to lie.” you valued honesty and in the short life that you have ever known, you do not ever recall a time you ever lied to anyone.

“all mortals do. eventually.” the words were dismissive and it seemed that your interaction with the god was over, considering the way he turned his floating body to face zagreus. “i came to tell you this. what you are doing, what you have _done_ … it roused something.” something unsettled crosses death incarnate’s features. “unnatural things are happening. mortals that should be dead still walk among these lands, monsters cease to die—” he shakes his head, hair whispering against his hood. 

“what do you mean?” zagreus, at this, straightens, worry evident. “things aren’t _dying?”_

that makes something in you chill, half-remembered rumours of travelers that wander through these lands. but … those were just rumours, right? 

Lord thanatos shrugs, “whatever it is, it’s no longer your concern ever since you left.” it’s cruel what he says, enough that it seems to wound zagreus. but nothing more was said. in a flash of light, radiant wings arching before lord thanatos disappears, leaving you both with the smoldering ashes of the pyre.

it seemed that zagreus was too shocked to do anything much, staring off into space thoughtfully. you sigh, pouring a bucket of dirt over the remaining embers and stifling them with a soft hiss.

you watch the prince, swathed in ember, eyes that reflected both of his parentage, stand there - looking more alone than ever. “was… were you and Lord Thanatos close?”

zagreus blinks, startled by your voice, turning his head to take in your form - clutching the bucket at your hip and knees smeared with grey. “I— we— we are. were. I don’t know.” he runs a hand through his hair in frustration, “it’s just… ever since i left, i think i hurt him.” there’s true regret in his tone, rocking back on his feet before flopping to the ground and staring at the night sky.

_he misses them_ , you realize with clarity.

quietly, you set the bucket to the side, and gingerly lower yourself to lay on your back next to him. “i think you did too.” you say quietly, honestly as ever. you try to be gentle, but still, you see him wince.

“ouch.” he crosses his arms and turns his head, so that you couldn’t see his face. “i didn’t mean to hurt him.” a whisper.

you don’t respond for a few seconds before sighing slightly, “sometimes, we hurt the people we love whenever there is a desire for change. we never really mean to, but it happens. maybe you should apologize to him.” zagreus looks over at you, opening his mouth to argue. “ _not_ because you wanted to leave the underworld, but because you hurt him by leaving.”

the prince stares at you, shifting his gaze to the stars. “i guess, it’s a complicated situation.

“that’s life.” you laugh, pushing yourself up so that you were sitting. “complications.” you make the move to stand; however, the hand around your forearm stops you. zagreus props himself up on an elbow, brows drawn together in pleading.

“stay with me for a while?”

oh. _oh_. how could you _ever_ deny your prince anything?

you smile at him, barest hint of teeth before laying back down - “of course.” and you both laid there, staring up at the stars until… until the darkness fell over you, until hypnos cast his spell over you.

* * *

when you rouse at the rooster’s crow, you smell the scent of morning dew tickling your nose and groan internally. _great, this is inviting sickness…_ yet the chill you had anticipated from sleeping outside never sunk into your bones. you felt warm, _unnaturally so_.

you open your eyes, squinting at at the sun peeking above the trees, on your back - before looking down at the source of the warmth.

suddenly, your whole body seems to go through a flash of heat, blushing so intensely that you wondered if you were going to burst into flames. 

it seemed that prince zagreus, the scourge of wretches and a personal pain in his father’s backside, was… _cuddling_ you. he had thrown a possessive arm over your waist, basically molding his body against yours and staving off the chill of the night and the morning. _oh gods, i never thought that your whole body can blush, but here i am_.

you try to wiggle free, but zagreus huffs unhappily, plastering himself firmer against your side and grumbles against your shoulder. that was it - you were doomed to be a god-prince’s cuddle pillow for eternity. 

(a punishment you didn’t seem to mind)

at this point in time, you would be already waking up to feed the animals or to prepare breakfast, but being trapped so thoroughly meant that escape was nigh impossible.

resigned to your fate, you offer a few grumbles before settling back down to sleep some more. it was a hard day yesterday, you figured that you deserved _some_ semblance of rest.

it must be some time later, you roused once more. trapped in the nebulous space between awake and asleep. you murmur sleepily, turning your head slightly and you see… zagreus above you, studying you carefully, face soft and fond and open - in the way that the land could only bring out. he brushes his hand on your forehead, sweeping hair away from your face carefully.

a dream, perhaps?

you wake up again, this time tucked carefully in your bed, blanket pulled to your chin and tucked tightly enough to feel as though you were a baby being swaddled once more. how did you… _oh_. 

“he carried me up here and tucked me in…” you managed to worm a hand out to smack your face in embarrassment before allowing the limb to drop back onto the bed listlessly. you were feeling lazy and content enough to want to lounge in bed.

well, that is until you smelled something burning.

“what the—” you scramble out of bed, legs tangled in the blankets, and tripping over them and rushed down the hall and into the kitchen where zagreus was frantically attempting to kill the flames from the fireplace where he was attempting to cook food.

fear ran through your mind and you grabbed the pitcher, tossing water over the cauldron AND zagreus in turn.

the flames flickered down into a sad death, the pitcher held in a death-grip, as you looked over to zagreus who… looked like a sad, wet puppy.

you couldn’t help yourself, you promptly burst into loud laughter, setting the pitcher to the side so that you could lean on the table, snorting and cackling hard enough to bring tears in your eyes. soon enough, zagreus follows suit, placing the pan to the side. “what are you _doing?”_ you manage through wheezes.

zagreus snorts, smiling hard enough that his cheeks hurt, “i was _trying_ to make you breakfast, but as you can probably tell, i failed miserably.” 

“ok, first of all, too much kindling. the fire got out of control.” you compose yourself, smiling all the while, walking over to the fireplace, poking at the wet kindling. “how about we get some more kindling and i could teach you how to cook.”

“but _i_ wanted to cook you something.” you can hear the pout in his voice, as you both retreat to the back to dump the wet wood and grab new pieces to replace it. “just as a thank you, you know.”

oh. the smile turns a bit shy and you can feel yourself softening, “well, you can’t cook me anything if you don’t know how to. how about i teach you first and _then_ you can cook me something. tomorrow’s breakfast is on you, deal?” you hold out your hand and zagreus takes it without hesitation, the joy reaching his eyes.

“deal.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you try to teach zag on how to ride a horse and try to weasel out his purpose in the surface world. both fail miserably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly, this was supposed to be more of a filler chapter, but it ended up not being that?

“don’t tell me that you’re scared of myroclus.” the words leave your mouth amused, patting the flank of the enormous draft horse, watching as zagreus stared back at myroclus warily. like he was going to bite his head off or something. the cottage doesn’t exactly have a stable, nor is myroclus an entirely domesticated horse, but he’s a good companion and fairly compliant with you.

zagreus shook his head, a little bit peeved at the thought of being scared of a horse - after all, _he_ was the one who faced the hordes of the underworld, dying so many times that hypnos had to dedicate a list solely for himself. “i’m not _scared_. just – wary, ok? does he have special powers? what’s his parentage? and do i have to expect fire-breathing in the near future.”

the questions make you laugh, myroclus nickering and shaking his head before dipping it to sneak a few nibbles of grass below. tsk, tsk, what a hungry thing! “no powers, just a normal horse. he’s a _draft_ horse. i use him for plowing and riding in the woods yonder, the wolves fear him.” you move forward, scratching myroclus’s neck, fond at the way he nestled his head on your shoulder. 

dark eyes peer at zagreus, almost conveying the words of: _my human_. zagreus raises his hands in surrender, no, he wasn’t going to steal _your human_. it was clear that winter was already nearing, and the journey towards the nearest town was going to be fairly treacherous, but there were some needed supplies and you couldn’t wait till after lady demeter’s anger abetted.

but still - you didn’t want your two best boys (don’t tell zagreus that you already considered him a _best boy_ , his ego did **not** need any more stroking) to argue on the journey there. with quick hands, you produce an apple, voice pitching into something baby-ish, “you are a good boy, right, myroclus? you’re going to behave for me?” 

myroclus takes the apple from your hands, snuffling along your palm with a pleased snort. “ok, come here. he got his treat and he knows to be a good boy, right, sweet one?” myroclus shudders in delight, eyes going slightly lidded and hooves stamping the ground. 

“are you sure?”

you roll your eyes and turn around, reaching out to curl your hand around the prince’s, tugging him closer. “yes. i am _sure_. would i ever lead you astray?”

“no, but…” you shush him and press his hand on the side of myroclus’s flank, guiding him to stroke the horse firmly. “wait, i dont want to hurt him…”

“he’s made of pure muscle, he likes it firm, zag.” you concentrate on helping the prince pet myroclus to his liking, not noticing the apollo-bright smile that he levelled at you. when you _do_ notice, you pause, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. “what.”

“you called me _zag_.” he points out, fingers curling to scratch myroclus’ favourite spot. “instead of _zagreus_.”

fluster rises like an inferno, ready to swallow you whole. “mm.” you pull your hand back, averting your gaze to the carefully-folded blue cloth that you meant to drape over the horse’s back in preparation of the journey.

zagreus grabs your arm, careful, gentle. like he always was, like he feared he could shatter you to pieces with one wrong move. (he wasn’t wrong exactly, but this sort of gentleness scared you because where else would ever experience _that_ and prince zagreus’ destiny was beyond you and the simple cottage). “hey, i wasn’t making fun of you. i always told you, you didn’t have to be so formal with me. we’re friends. _philia_ is what we are.”

 _philia_ , a friendly sort of love, an affection between friends, one of the four words of love.

you tilt your head, heart molded like clay, warmed by the heat of his caring hands. and it is _peace_ that makes its way in the hallowed atriums of your chest. _home_ , you think. _this was meant to be, in some strange, Fate-spun way._ “philia.” you parrot, wrapping a hand around the one zagreus had curled around your arm.

it’s a strange moment, one that’s shattered with the way zagreus suddenly pulls back; flexing his hand slightly. “so, you were teaching me to ride this beast?”

myroclus whinnies in indignation, _he was not a mere beast, he was the grandest of horses!_ you laugh again, unfolding the blue blanket that allowed you to the barest hint of relief from the bumpiness that riding horses could serve. “perhaps, but most of all, i will teach you to hold on. it would do you well to go and explore outside of my lady’s lands.” pause, thoughtful look. “if that is your wish, anyways.”

“i find no issue with that, i _have_ been feeling a bit cooped up. and i have never ridden a horse before, how hard could it be?” zagreus watches as you tie the blanket to myroclus’ back before seeing the unimpressed look on your face. “what?”

“riding a horse is no easy feat, i’ll have you know.”

he could tell that he’s offended you, smiling sheepishly as if to say _sorry!_ nonetheless, you turn towards myroclus, rolling up your chiton to revealed toned legs and thighs from years of hard work. sticking your tongue out, you take a few steps back before rushing forward and vaulting yourself onto myroclus’ back. zagreus claps wildly, whistling in appreciation at the show of athleticism, the _only_ show of athleticism that you are willing to display.

you are simply content to walk through life instead of rushing. 

“me next!” zagreus mirrors you, tensing his legs to leap…

“stop! no! you don’t know how to do it yet and myroclus isn’t prepared, what we _are_ going to do is **this**.” you pat the horse’s neck, whispering a quiet: _down boy_ , and myroclus settles on the ground. “now, up.” you pat behind your form, waiting patiently for zagreus to sit behind you, but he doesn’t.

oh. he looks… petulant. like a child. “i’m not a child, you know. i can do what you did. it’s easy!” he crosses his arms, but obligingly sits on the spot you had indicated. “This isn’t too bad.”

His arms wrap around your waist loosely, a smile dimpling at your cheeks. “not yet, and _tighter_.” you tug him until his arms tighten, his body a spot of heat at your back. prince zagreus is tall enough that he could comfortably place his chin on your head. “ready?” a whistle has your horse standing up once again, the reins tight around your fists. “just hold on.”

you snap the reins and off myroclus goes, the earth rumbling underneath his thunderous hooves. he was a bulky creature, as strong as an oak tree and not as fast as his other kin, but a dependable steed. you can hear zagreus grunting behind you, knees pressed tight to avoid being knocked off, voice jumping in amusing leaps at every bound of the horse. “how do you fare?” you call above the winds, cheeks bitten red by the fall air, delight in your gaze. 

“iiiiii—- thiiiiiink—- im gonnaaaaaaahahhhhhhh—-” his words come strangely and at a particular bump, one that has zagreus slipping and attempting to cling to you, thus setting off a chain reaction of him falling and you falling onto the rocky ground beneath.

luckily because of godlike reflexes, he maneuvers himself in a way that cushions your fall with his bulk, rollin in the mud before stopping. chiton messed, hair messed, face splattered with brown, you sit up, glaring at him crossly. distantly, you can see myroclus skidding to a halt and swinging his mighty head, returning in leisurely trots, taking a detour to a nearby field of sweetgrass. zagreus shrugs sheepishly at you, “you did say to hold on…”

“yes, but not yank me off the horse as well!” you try to wipe off the mud from your face, succeeding in smearing it even further. “ugh, it’s not getting off.” at least there’s one white spot left on your chiton. however, a splat against your chest has it disappearing — you look up at zagreus who sports a shit-eating grin, the flames that licked his laurel wreathe dancing in delight. “you. did. not.”

he sticks his nose in the air, mouth curled in a manner that reminded you too much of lord hermes, “i did, and what are you going to do about it?”

if he insists on playing dirty, then you shall oblige him in turn. in his moment of gloating and taunting, you craft a mud ball and toss it right at his face, laughing at the way he sputters, features messed even further with dirt and clods of grass. zagreus appears to not have anticipated your retaliation and that makes it that much more sweeter.

your countenance may be reserved; however, that is by choice - underneath the mask, you had the capacity of being equally playful. you roll away from the god, scooping up handful of mud and temporarily overwhelming poor zagreus who attempts to escape the indent he made in the mud with a wet _schlop!_

however, whatever your advantage you had was swiftly lost. his dual-coloured eyes flash with excitement, teeth bared in a grin that foretold trouble. with his forearms up, he blocked every mudball you threw, whilst stepping closer and closer. you try to outmaneuver him, but as fleet-footed as you were, zagreus was even more superior (you suspected that he had been blessed by lord hermes, _hardly fair!_ ).

“—- _got you!”_ the prince tackles you to the ground, carefully cushioning your head with a hand and pinned you in the mud - braced over you with a forearm next to your head and knees next to your thighs. by then, you’re both heaving from your play-fighting and nearly unidentifiable from the amount of mud caked on your forms.

the laughter from being bowled over and trapped trails off, your gazes captured in magnetic timelessness. you’ve noticed that you’ve been having these strange moments often, an electric quality that you cannot seem to place. it was terrifying, it was exhilarating. prince zagreus watches you, lips parted, quiet. 

this moment - standing on the precipice of something _different_. you falter, pressing a hand on zagreus’ chest, laughing albeit awkwardly. “zagreus, m-myroclus. i have to get him. and we… we should get clean.” the words stuff your mouth as the moment is ruined, zagreus blinking in realization. he rocks back on his heels, smiling, but something in his gaze is different.

was it regret? was it disappointment?

he shouldn’t be, what this was – it was an illusion. simply the games of lady aphrodite and nothing more. when he stands, he offers you a hand, which you take gratefully. “go back home and clean up, i need to get myroclus back.” it seemed like he wanted to protest; however, he doesn’t - midnight-hair matted with mud. zagreus doesn’t answer you, contenting with a nod and returning to the cottage.

you whistle loudly, myroclus’ ears pricking at the sound and trotting over to bump his snout against your cheek gently. “tsk, you were a bad boy, did you do that on purpose?” myroclus nickers, neither an affirmative or a negative. it must of been one of his bouts of mischief. “nonetheless, tomorrow, we’re going to practice more, please be good and i’ll bring you treats.” the prospects of treats, it seemed, was enough for the horse to internally pledge to behave.

after returning myroclus to his fenced field, you turn your feet back to the cottage and to the bathhouse where steaming rose water and oils awaited you. luxury has never been appealing to you, but the capacity to soak in a bath for an extended period of time was wonderful. you knocked on the door and upon finding no reply, entered the bathhouse, shedding your already-awkwardly dried clothes and sinking into the tub of hot water (zagreus had, no doubt, already refilled upon anticipation of your return).

you do not know how long you sat there and cleaned, allowing the day to sluice off your shoulders, but when you finish, your skin is pruny and countenance soften with the delight of someone well-soaked. a robe hung nearby, soft fabric that warded off the cold, cinched at the waist with rope. 

thankfully, when you return to the kitchen where you know zagreus was stoking the fire for the stew they had made, nothing was on fire. his hair was endearingly fluffed up, swaddled in a similar robe. “nice bath? you took long.” he offers you a bowl of stew, which you take gratefully.

“i’m a bit sore from the fall, it was nice to have the warmth soak into my skin.” you pull up a chair, stretching luxuriously enough that your joints pop. “you know, i’ve been curious.” zagreus spoons food into his mouth, humming in acknowledgement (he’s learned to not talk with his mouth full, something you’ve scolded him about frequently). “when lord thanatos was here, he talked about your purpose… i’m sorry, am i not supposed to…” you trail off at the look he gives you. it’s not menacing or angry, but filled with a brand of determination.

ah, you forget. the vengeful, cataclysmic drive to see his birthmother, you wonder - would you go to such depths? would you descent to the pits of tartarus to see your family, so cruelly stolen from you?

“no, it’s… it’s fine.” he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, “i came here to protect my mother. from the rest of the olympians.” _that_ gets your attention, straightening in your seat.

“my lady is in danger?” the panic in your chest tightens, mind already racing with contingency plans. how, just _how_ , are you supposed to protect the goddess?

he can see the fear in your eyes, reaching out to hold your hand tightly. “no harm will fall upon her. or you. i am here.”

but you know the disastrous uselessness of fighting against forces of nature themselves. after all, it was lord ares whom blessed the army, the general, that ravaged her home. “don’t. there are… there are certain things that you cannot fight against, believe me, i _know_.” your words are harsh, zagreus taken aback by the rawness of your self baring. you squeeze your eyes shut, dismissing your memories and traumas. easy, after all. pandora’s box, locked tight. “regardless, lord thanatos spoke about something about things not dying, doesn’t that scare you?”

zagreus considers that, tilting his head before shaking it. “not really. it’ll sort itself out soon. now, let’s stop talking about this nasty business. eat your dinner.”

you feel scolded, dismissed, really. but that’s nothing new. zagreus was a _god_ , you remind yourself. he did not feel mortality in the way that you did. bah, nonetheless, you and this cottage is an insignificant blip in the grand scheme of things.

after all, being faceless was the greatest gift of all in this life.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a filler-ish chapter through the eyes of thanatos who is really feeling his emotions on this fine day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh than, just tell zagreus you're in love with him!!!! you don't need to take it out on the mortal, they have no idea what they're doing...

thanatos was not a being who strayed far from his station in life, he was someone who was wedded intimately with his work, and could not find the time to dally them away. however, there were extenuating circumstances, always has been - and they _always_ , infuriatingly, began with zagreus. hades never really spoke about his son beyond irate murmurs of his disruptions of the ill-begotten peace or, more recently, of his subsequent escape.

he cared not for the deeds of zagreus. not when he had bested the furies. not when he defeated the lernean bone hydra, not when he had defeated the champion of elysium or defeating the god of the underworld himself. other gods would have roared their joy and delight at the virility of their offspring, praised their achievements with ambrosia and nectar flowing freely.

but that is not what hades did. all he did was hunch over his desk, scrawling over endless piles of scrolls for a work that never ceased. beyond that, it seemed that hades had washed his hands of his offspring, leaving him to do what he wished in the world above.

if he wished to debase himself and pursue fruitless heroics like the offspring of the olympians - do so, he did not care.

* * *

“you do not seem remarkable.” thanatos spoke into the open air, startling the mortal groundskeep who pattered around the small kitchen with a chicken in their arms. they flinch, enough that the hen is able to squirm free and cower underneath the table with a fearful _cluck!_

the apple trees shuddered outside shied away from the clouding sun, the wind trembled. thanatos knows the matter of his presence, knows that wherever he steps, silence follows - for peaceful death was often quiet. the air felt far colder than before, in spite of the midday sun. and all the mortal could do was bow their head respectfully. “lord thanatos.” they were soft-spoken, words feathery that hardly rose above the curls of smoke from embers smouldering. their eyes remained downcast, pinned firmly on the ground and unmoving.

if thanatos was a lesser being, he could’ve mistaken the mortal for being a statue - if not for their living colour and the subtle rise and fall of their breath. 

“do you wish for me to fetch prince zagreus? he is resting in his room.”

conversation was hardly the tool of his trade, and many would be hard-pressed to elicit more than succinct sentences or monosyllabic responses. a conversation with a statue would glean more than one with thanatos. “no.”

confusion halts the mortal’s reverence, tilting their head up to stare at thanatos, straightening in place, spine unfurling like a sapling freed from the throes of a hurricane.

to his eye, the mortal was unassuming. plain-looking, boasting no beauty that would make poets weep, nor with a voice that could charm sirens. they were, unequivocally, average.

gods always gravitated towards the remarkable, yet here the groundskeep was, an antithesis towards a previously cemented notion. they were not aggressive, not brave, not out-spoken, nor overtly clever from their brief interactions (he unspooled their life like a scroll, reading their memories like prophecy). nothing about them made them stand above the nameless masses. 

yet word flows freely from one shade to the next, word of the new destiny that his sisters, the Fates, were unravelling. that was the thing about mortals, they may have their destiny predestined, but the paths that they take to that eventual end can differ and sometimes, they could change their destiny.

not like them, not like the gods - both freed and trapped by their divinity.

nevertheless, this sort of inanity was a gift, he supposed. the eyes of gods were rarely kind ones and to scorn one of them… well, the countless tails of minor deities and mortals being turned to nameless monstrosities to be slain by upstart heroes was enough to tell the cautionary tale of denying the gods.

the mortal shifts in place uneasily, their hands clasped behind their backs, but with the way their muscles shifted under skin told thanatos that they were grasping their hands together uneasily. they were not used to this manner of scrutiny.

there was a part of him that disliked the mortal, that despised that secret jealousy that was born from: _what was so good about the surface world?_ gods were a prideful and jealous folk, and thanatos was no exception to the rule, he simply hid it better than most. 

“do you wish for tea?” the mortal asks carefully, rocking from heel to ball of their feet, they do not smile, but their eyes speak of kindness. it’s an offer that surprises, but one he did not simply have time for.

besides, the nourishment offered in the mortal realm often paled in comparison to the immortal one.

the hen, which had gathered its courage, plucks at the flowing reaper cloth that clung to his form. a nameless rage befalls over him, and it is with one fell swoop, blood splatters in an artful arch on the floor, over the mortal, staining their chiton with spots of crimson.

he was not prone towards acts of unwarranted violence like this, but it was a substitute of what he wanted to do to the mortal. thanatos hides his shame of calm lost with an impassive expression, expression not shifting with the aghast and terrified look that the mortal gave at the way the hen fell lifeless. its soul shuddered as it shed its flesh vessel, flickering like the dying of a candle.

without further word, death incarnate disappears with a flash of light and the ear-splitting sound of a bell.

* * *

zagreus finds him, hours later near the river. time had always moved so strangely for gods, and what appear to be hours for mortals was simply minutes to his kind. death had always been inextricably drawn to life, vice versa, and he knows - the moment the grass shifts, the air whispers, that he was found.

“you didn’t have to do that, than. you didn’t have to… frighten them, _threaten_ them.” thanatos does not turn around, content on staring out at the expanse of untamed woods, something that he was sure that lady artemis would find delight with hunting in.

his grip on his scythe tightens, “my presence is threatening enough. besides… i did not do anything much, it was time for their pet to die anyways.”

the prince stands next to him, shorter, but presence imposing enough. he looked angry, displeased with what he had done. “you could’ve waited! you didn’t have to kill it in front of the groundskeep - what’s _wrong_ with you? you… you’ve never done this before, than.”

thanatos purses his lips, “you are a coward, zagreus. running away from your problems, running away from home,” _running away from me without a goodbye._

“so take it out on _me!”_ zagreus thumps his chest, flames flickering at his laurel wreath, teeth bared, “not on the damn mortal who couldn’t even lift a finger to fight back!” his hands flex, as though ready to fight back.

and it was that moment that truly hurt than. was zagreus truly prepared to leave them all, to wash his hands of the underworld? just for this world, and his mother and that _mortal_.

oh blood and darkness, how humiliating. was he… _was he jealous?_

his pain must have filtered through his mask; for zagreus had frozen, expression dropping in surprise. “than— wait.”

but it was all for naught, thanatos disappeared in a familiar flash of light and shriek of a bell, leaving zagreus cursing quietly.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the plot picks up! things do get a lot worse before they get better......

the most recent interaction with lord thanatos had, understandably, left you off-kilter - scrubbing the blood off of your body almost-methodically, before preparing the chicken to be used in a dish. it was be a waste to have it lying about (even if the chicken was one of your favourites). “look, mate, it’s...” zagreus sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair, “he never acts like that and i already talked to him about it.”

sure, zagreus had  _ talked _ to lord thanatos about leaving you alone. but the fact of the matter was that a  _ god _ had decided to lash their wrath upon you and that thought was enough to cause you distress. you hum noncommittally , the slide of the knife smooth over the disemboweled remains of the chicken, shoulders hunched up.

whatever, you had the right to feel terrified. “hey.. did you hear me?---” zagreus touches your shoulder, hand recoiling at the way you slam your knife down onto the cutting board.

“i did.” it’s hard to not yell at him, but there’s a sharpness of your voice that makes zagreus wary. “but i am allowed to be scared. you are a god and you may be used to spurring their wrath. i am not. i am mortal and it does not take much kill someone like i.” it’s harder to not blame zagreus for all the terror that seemed to saturate the time they had been acquainted, and the same foreboding sensation returns. 

you know that things will get  _ far _ worse before it gets better.

“but...” zagreus does not make the move to touch you, knows to respect your space when emotions flared high and kindness was hardly the first thing on your mind. “you know that i would protect you no matter what, right? i wouldn’t let you get hurt. at all.”

you huff out a sound, not quite a scoff, not quite a laugh. But close. “i remember who made a promise like that once. it didn’t work out.” the thing about zagreus is that for all of the horrors that he had faced, there was a sunny optimism to him, a dogged determination that allowed him to survive thus far. the same cannot be said for you. life had taught you relatively early that hoping and dreaming were things that could not be afforded to you, which is why you kept them close to your heart, never to see the light of day.

zagreus survived by taking on every matter of monstrosities out there. you survived by fading away in the background. without looking behind you, you knew that zagreus was at a loss for words, a rarity in of itself.

eyes flutter shut, listening to him walk away softly, disheartened by the hard jut of your shoulders and the unyielding straightness of your spine.

* * *

you knew you couldn’t handle the awkward affair of dinner, knew that for someone as reserved as you, emotions had a tendency to be felt more intensely. so you set out a wooden bowl for zagreus, paired with bread and dessert you baked off-handedly. you weren’t hungry, more tired than anything else.

the room that you laid claim to, the seed to sapeio’s tree cradled carefully in a box and cloth catching your notice first, was relaxing. lavender and vanilla clung to the sheets, to every corner of your pocket of elysium. 

all of the day’s worries and fears sluiced away, as you rubbed your face, raking fingers through your hair to tame it. you felt bad at shutting zagreus down so harshly hours earlier, but you refused yourself to feel guilty anymore than you are. your fears were valid and zagreus probably did not understand how terrifying lord thanatos was when it came down to it.

“ugh.” you slap a hand over your eyes, falling onto your cot, the sheets bunching up underneath your body. “sapeio, what i wouldn’t give to have you here.” the air does not answer, but the cottage does creak in sympathy. “prince zagreus is trouble, isn’t he?” no response, which makes you groan aloud. still. you can’t help the swell of warmth and adoration that blooms morning glories underneath your ribs.

_ for such an infuriating god, he is... nice _ .

maybe tomorrow, you could make one of his favourite dishes and pick more fruits just to make up for the awkwardness of today.

you fall asleep with a smile on your lips, swaddled in the smell of lavender and the ghostly sensation of your old companion, sapeio the dryad, stroking your hair like they used to.

* * *

when you rouse once more, it’s with the disorienting sensation of not knowing where you were - mind addled with the screeching instinct of something was wrong. but once you blinked the sleep from your eyes, you hear the ring of metal striking metal.

you fly from your bed and towards the window, peering in the darkness. the moon shined brightly above, yet you could not restrain your scream. the  _ fields  _ were set aflame, smoking rising high in the air and flames licking at the once-vibrant apple trees. you look down and see zagreus engaged in combat with... oh  _ gods _ , twisted monstrosities of what used to be satyrs, skin rippling and boiling, unhinged jaws releasing pinpricks of needles that zagreus avoided desperately. 

there were so many of them, dancing in the fields in bacchanal frenzy, bleating death and delight within the open air. tears streamed down your face, seeing them rip apart your animals and guzzling their blood like nectar. “zagreus!”

in the beautiful, twisting moment of slaughtering one satyr, he looks up, fear evident in his gaze. “we need---  **DUCK!”** in the shadow of movement, zagreus sees a satyr rear back and spit out a needle directly at you before you lurch back, the poison-dripping needle embedding itself onto the wood of the frame. your heart thundered in your chest, as you stood up once more, the satyr that had shot the needle now beheaded.

but what struck you the most was the fear in his gaze, and you hear it. the ghostly cackling of the satyrs coming to your room, knocking over vases, before reaching your door and throwing their bodies against the door. yet miraculously it held, even though you recalled being able to kick the door down whenever you had your arms filled with items. something brushes against your fingers and you flinch, looking down to see a lily twining and stroking fingertips. 

one last act of love.

you feel your eyes burn, as you stroke it in return, rushing around the room to slip your sandals on, grab a pack, shoving your dagger, the box that held sapeio’s seed within, and a purse of drachmas - hopefully something that could tide the both of you over.

zagreus calls your name desperately and you return to the window, the nearby satyrs dead around him. “jump!  _ you have to jump! _ i’ll catch you!”

fingers dig deep into the wood of the window frame, as you bit your lower lip, tossing looks at the splintering wooden door. “i’m scared!”

he tries to smile at you, soaked in blood, but with a kindness that eased your insides. zagreus holds his arms wide, “i’m here for you, i promised.”

_ ah, fuck. _

you climb onto window ledge, tossing your pack to the ground first before leaping into zagreus’ arms. the wind was knocked out of you, as you both tumbled to the ground, body braced for pain, but surprised to find none. 

zagreus smiles at you, combing your hair back, a tender moment that  _ absolutely did not have a place in this moment - dear gods, zagreus! _ you roll your eyes, fearful more than anything else, as you grab your pack and tug him to his feet. “we have to get myroclus!” with his hand in yours, you run as fast as you could, vision obscured by smoke and zagreus holding out his blade to deflect needles from your vulnerable form.

behind the both of you, satyrs bleat in anger, following with the thud of hooves that seemed way too close. myroclus whinnied in alarm, rearing back at the sight of you. you reach out, stroking his snout, petting it carefully. “myroclus, we have to get out of here.”

but before more could be said, you hear a quiet “oh no.” and whirl around to see zagreus stare at you before toppling forward into your arms, a needle sticking out of his back. 

“no!” you sob out, wrenching the needle out of his back, pulling him away from the blazing infernoes and the approaching form of salivating beasts that looked like they would like nothing more than to eat them all.

with a strength that rivalled heracles, you managed to throw zagreus over myroclus’ back, tucking the needle into your rucksack before leaping onto your steed’s back.

the shining blade that zagreus held was kept safe in your arms, as you curled your fingers into myroclus’ mane, urging him on with a kick of your heels. the horse explodes into action, thundering forward and leaping over the fence and towards the pathway that would lead out of lady persephone’s lands and into the wild unknown.

you could not look behind yourself, tears running down your face at the thought of the place you loved so much being burnt to the ground. the greatest worry you had was the god in your arms, poisoned.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you try your best to heal zagreus, meet a witch in the woods and give up something precious to you :(

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIHIHI. sorry for the wait! i was preoccupied with school this entire week, but now im relatively free again hehe. this chapter does have some blood in it, so be warned!

god-blood lingered on your tongue, fingers stained with red, as you wiped your blade on your chiton. you have heard medicine men slicing open skin to suck the venom out from wounds inflicted by venomous snakes - how effective it was is another story. he does not move, but with a gentle hand, told you that he still breathed. how long he lived; however, was a story you could not discern for yourself.

 _that_ thought frightens you. in the time you have known prince zagreus, you have grown to... care for him. in a way that you have never cared for anyone before. and to lose something so fragile and precious as this due to the hands of a beast was horrific. it made you feel cursed, like all good things in your life was meant to die.

you shut your eyes, clutching the ineffectual shawl tighter around your shoulders, as myroclus snuffled at the side of your head. he whinnied piteously, frightened by the night’s events and just as tired. “i know.” you scratch the underside of his chin, the only cover from the falling snow being a tree that arced overhead. “but what could we do?” helpless are the words and no answer arrives, the winter swallowing all manner of noise.

it was strange being out of the perpetual summer of lady persephone’s lands, the feeling being akin to a prey. exposed, fearful, in danger. white blanketed the ground, over barren trees and bushes. in your haste to escape, you knew that you did not have the means to survive

 _but i could help._ you scream loudly, myroclus tossing his head so violently that zagreus nearly rolls off of his back. _oh! tame your beast, little one. i am just a lone helper, a benevolent samaritan in these wild woods._ the voice speaks in beguiling rasps, rumbling deep within your mind.

you leap to your feet, arms straining with the effort to heft the prince’s blade, the edges gleaming wickedly - hungering for the blood you cannot muster to give.

“oh, put that away.” in the space between a blink and the next, a hunched, shawled figure stood at the end of the natural path, a gnarled cane held in weathered. “i mean you no harm.”

in hesitation, the blade lowers slightly, but you hold fast. “who are you?” you demand aggressively, eyes narrowed in slits, features arranged in the harshest expression you could muster. “speak your name before I... before I use this _blade_.”

the figure does not move, does not speak. And it is long moments that leave you and myroclus uneasy enough to tense when they laugh loudly. lifting a hand, they pull the hood back and spools of white, shimmering hair falls onto the snow. but the thing that grabbed your attention the most was the milky-whiteness of their eyes, unblinking and unseeing. your grip on the hilt of the whispering blade tightens slightly. “fear not, young one. i bring you and your god prince no harm. i can help. he is... poisoned is he not?”

“how do you know---?!” the query clamps itself behind your teeth, hard enough that your jaw aches. but if they could help zagreus... your arm lowers, the tip of the blade embedding itself in the snow, red metal stark against white. “--- please. _please_ help him. i’ll give you anything.”

the figure seems to smile benevolently at you; however, there was a sense of danger that instantly makes you wary. feeling as though you had made a promise for something you did not understand. “i see. come, to my home.” they turn, a shuffling movement made more apparent in the stillness of the air. you look up at myroclus who whinnies softly in unease. 

_yeah, strangers in the woods rarely was a good thing._

but one look at zagreus, pale and fire-feet flickering weakly, was enough for you to steel your nerves.

the path to the stranger’s house was not a long one; however, it does make you wary. a wooden house, constructed crudely with all matter of material ranging from branches to furs or pieces of trash carelessly left behind by travellers. it stunk of _magic_. not quite like the gods, but you have been around magic enough to have a sense of it, tugging at your soul, whispering coyly in the back of your mind ( _let us in, play with us, know us_ ).

they opened the door and gestured for you to come in, prompting you to slide zagreus from myroclus’ back and toss his arm over your shoulder. gods, he was far heavier than you anticipated, nearly buckling under the weight of his bulk. you take a moment to study the small living space. jars filed with herbs lined the shelves, animal skins serving to be rugs on the floor and a fireplace with a cauldron bubbling at the back.

you deposit him into the cot that they had directed you. gently, as though he were a slumbering child. fingers brush over midnight black hair, fingers like branches, and it’s instinct that your own hand darts out to curl around the stranger’s wrist - eyes glinting with caution. “what will you do?”

to their credit, the stranger does not balk at the look you give them. “take his temperature, figure out which biles to use and construct an antidote.” they pull their hand away from your grasp, laying a hand over zagreus’ sweating forehead, ho-humming long enough to make you antsy. “ah, i know what this is.” their voice was dark, “satyr poison. you had a run-in with them. i thought they lingered in the underworld?”

the question was innocent enough, but as someone who was well-aware that association with gods was dangerous enough, you shrug slightly. “i do not know. i... i was attacked by them and he came to rescue me.” that was the only information you were willing to give, without damning the both of you. and besides, it wasn’t lying - zagreus _did_ rescue you and you _were_ attacked by them.

semantics, really.

“what is your name?” you ask, swiftly to change the subject, but out of curiousity as well. 

the figure hums once more before producing a knife. “he is running hot. this suggests an imbalance of too much bad blood. and you may call me _anura_.” you watch like a hawk as anura slices zagreus’ skin open, holding a bowl underneath to catch the blood. 

anura. what a _strange_ name. something that you haven’t heard before and something that rolls off of your tongue weirdly. however, you do not make a fuss about their origins, they can keep their secrets if they wished (gods know that they most likely had many...) 

even if you had seen his blood, it was disconcerting to see such a human red. didn’t gods bleed ichor? did gods bleed at all?

anura takes the bowl away and wraps it around the cut tightly, sealing the exit wound. they place wet clothes on exposed skin, staving off the fever and soaking up all the sweat that had accumulated, soaking the cot below. “is he going to be ok?” you ask desperately, too left in the dark to know anything, and holding his hand gently.

they shuffle towards the cauldron and dump the blood within whatever contents was already inside, muttering to themself in a low, rasping croon. the hairs on the back of your neck raise in abject alarm, air stilling, the scent of metal in the air, and oh _gods_ \----- was this... was this witchcraft?

anura chanted, raising their arms and dumping herbs into the strange mixture, stirring with a long spoon, the flames flickering green (unnatural!). the wind outside roared and howled, snow battering the small hut, shrieking louder and louder until it falls silent.

still. quiet. enough that she could hear the panicked huffing of myroclus outside, waiting faithfully. 

“here. let him drink this.” suddenly, a bowl of a foul-smelling concoction was thrust under your nose, causing you to lurch back.

“what’s inside?!”

anura stares at you - milky eyes holding an intensity that makes you balk. “do you wish for him to heal?”

without question, without any doubt. you take the bowl, looking away. if you were going to doom zagreus, at least let it be done by your own hands - you suspect that lord thanatos would be at your doorstep then. zagreus’ head is lifted slightly, the bowl placed at his lips where you tip the contents carefully into his mouth, watching as his throat bobs with every swallow. it’s not long before the bowl is empty and the pain on his features ease into something more pleasant.

like he was having pleasant sleep.

anura takes the bowl, placing it onto the nearby table, turning to you with an unreadable look. “payment.”

you gently place zagreus’ head back onto the cot and wipe your hands on your chiton. “ah, yes. how much? i have drachmas in my pouch---” as you pass anura, their hand shoots out as fast as a striking viper, curling around your wrist with a strength that surprises you.

“i have no use for _money_ ,” they spit out, derisive, nails digging into the tender meat of your wrist. “i want something more. something that you cannot part without. a piece of your heart.” their voice shudders, deepening, lifting, and you realize - _oh gods, they’re not human, they’re not human, they’re not human_.

your body trembles like a leaf in the throes of a windstorm, heart hammering in your chest. “-- i don’t... i don’t u-understand.”

“something precious, something fond.” blood wells up from where you are held onto. not letting go even as you cry out.

“i have something!” and it makes your heart ache, tears springing to your eyes at the enormity of what you were going to do. anura lets go of your hand, just so that you can fish out the box that held the seed to sapeio’s tree, tears streaming down your face - offering it to anura.

greed overcame anura’s features, tongue licking over lips, as they snatched the box from your hands. “oh, _oh_. this is. this is _wonderful_. all i’ve ever **wanted**. memory, love, grief.” their eyes roll wildly around in their sockets. “debt repaid, your debt is repaid.”

they hobble over to the table, opening the box and unfurled the white clothe that held the seed; you look away, sobs leaving your mouth as you curl zagreus’ arm over your shoulders, dragging him outside, ignoring the witch muttering to themself.

it was for him. (unfortunately). for him.

* * *

zagreus wakes up, feeling both hot and cold, stifled underneath the sheets that he was swaddled in. but his only solace was the cool cloth that mopped up the sweat that beaded on his forehead. he shifts in place, sighing slightly before cracking his eyes open to see your face hovering over his. “... _urgh_ , what happened?” he sits up, aided by you, and promptly propped against pillows.

“you were poisoned by one of those satyrs.” you say, wringing the cloth over a bowl, stained pink from blood. “we’re in a nearby town, safe. i got us an inn for two nights.”

his body ached. as though he had battled through the underworld once more. zagreus felt delirious, only remembering bits and pieces after he was poisoned. you crying, you wielding his blade, some strange figure cutting him. before he started feeling better. zagreus grasped his head, “i.. don’t remember much. how did you heal me?”

you don’t look at him, careful to avoid his gaze. the thought of giving up a piece of sapeio made you inconsolable enough to cry yourself hoarse until you passed out for the night. “i asked for help.” you hear yourself say. “they healed you.”

“oh. _oh_. sweet... ” you don’t realize you’re crying until zagreus, kind, sweet, zagreus reaches out and pulls you into a hug. “darling, what happened?” you press your face against his shoulder, sobbing and clutching him tightly. he pets your hair, almost-helpless in the way he does it, protective in the way he does it.

you explain anura, how terrified you felt seeing him fall, and most of all, how you had to give up sapeio’s seed as payment. you wrap your arms around him, as tight as you could - attempting to mold your shape against his.

“i’m sorry...” he murmurs softly, guilt saturating his tone. “i know how much sapeio meant to you.”

nonetheless, even in your grief, you can tell that he was regretting on being saved. you lift yourself up on shaky arms, glaring down at him with a splotchy face. “n-no! it’s not your fault! i--- i’ll miss... having it. but i don’t regret saving you.” you point at him fiercely, attempting to cement the fact that even if it was hard to not have the comfort of knowing that something of sapeio was still there, you wouldn’t change your decision “i would’ve saved you. in any lifetime. i would’ve chosen _you_.”

he stares back at you with mismatched eyes, stunned at your admission. and you flush, extracting yourself from his arms. or at least, attempting to. “wh---”

“please. stay with me.” zagreus sounded weak, face flushed slightly. he shuffles on the cot, turning on his side to allow for you to have enough space to lay in. “i... i don’t think i can sleep alone tonight.”

considering that you were planning to sleep on the floor, this wasn’t too bad of a tradeoff. you nod slightly, settling in the place that he indicated, holding back your flinches at the way he made sure the sheet went over you and the arm curled around your waist gently. 

the night was already arriving and sleep lingered at the back of your eyes. “we have to warn the town of the satyrs tomorrow.” you yawn loudly.

zagreus laughs slightly, breath brushing the back of your neck. “of course. not lets sleep.”

it takes a long time before you do.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you stay at a town for a day, get swindled, talk about crushes, and zagreus pulls some unfunny shit.

the sheets smelled of lavender with the underlying hint of sweat, something unfamiliar and reminded you that you were far away from home, which was wasting away in the revelry of satyr-like monstrosities. the lack of warmth behind you was enough hint that zagreus was long gone from his post, the indented area cool to the touch.

in spite of the previous day’s... _excitement_ , you felt incredibly well-rested even with the troublesome aches that came from riding myroclus without his saddle pad. hair clung to your cheek, eyes blearily blinking to take in the contents of the unremarkable room that you found refuge at. the travel pack was dumped onto the wooden table near the center of the room, animal furred rugs adorning the floors, and the window was scantly opened to allow sunlight within - brightening the insides in a manner that made it feel homely for the wayward traveller.

_stygius_ was propped at the corner, almost careless in the way it was left, and you stare at it hard. you had been meaning to inquire zagreus about the weapon, about its origins. after wielding it _briefly_ yesterday against anura, it was unnerving. _alive_ almost. filled with a battle-hunger that you _knew_ that you would not be able to sate. (whispering about ichor and ancient cyclopean hands crafting it and titan-flesh cleaved like flayed meat)

perhaps these were the moments where curiousity such as yours was not wise and you tear your gaze from the weapon meant for more than war (for desolation, for abject violence). a shudder marches like the myrmidon army, down your spine, unrelenting. it was time to turn thoughts towards more pleasant things.

you stretch, arching your spine and popping joints with a satisfaction of a well-fed feline, walking towards the door to open it. a bit of fresh air wouldn’t hurt anyone, you reasoned internally, only to find zagreus on the other side - poised to knock and awkwardly balancing plates of food and cups of wine, looking too much like a first-day servant in the palace of a king.

“oh! you woke up.” he says, shouldering his way in when you move to the side to allow him in. there’s a hint of disappointment in his voice that makes the arch of your brow go even higher than usual whenever zagreus was involved in a sentence.

“you sound...” the door clicks close, as you gesture vaguely. “disappointed.” the prince lays the plates and cups without spilling a drop, something that must’ve been noteworthy considering the way he softly cheered and grinned.

zagreus turns to you, smiling sheepishly and rubbing the back of his head. “i was looking to get you breakfast. in bed.” the meal was... strangely extravagant. a hot stew with meat bobbing inside the broth, steaming bread and wine. this would be more appropriate to call lunch or dinner. 

“this... is breakfast?” you ask, voice pitched uncertainly. how chthonic gods ate in the underworld was beyond you, but this meal seemed to be... pricy. that’s when the strangeness of the morning hits you, you rush over to the travel pack and open the _significantly-lighter_ pouch before looking up at zagreus with accusation brimming your gaze, hissing. “you _took_ money?”

“erm. _yeah_. it was just laid out there and i thought it was something that the both of us could use.” he looked genuinely confused by your ire, the breakfast _and_ nice gesture left forgotten. “it wasn’t even that bad! just 2 dekadrachm for two meals and wine!”

you white-knuckle the strings to the pouch, hard enough that it creaked underneath your hands. “you got _swindled_ , zagreus. _two_ dekadrachm for that? i could’ve made that myself and in better quality!” the pouch now held drachmas, and obols. he had just spent the equivalent of _twenty_ drachmae. you feel like a bull with the way your breathing goes heavy. “we’re going to talk to them.” zagreus was still two heads taller, yet in your fury, he looked smaller. you poke his chest, “and we are getting that dekadrachm or die trying.”

he looks crestfallen with the reaction given - completely opposite of what he had intended. “of course, let’s get that money back.” and _as always_ you feel slightly bad.

hesitation pauses your actions, reaching out to lay a gentle hand on his arm before he turns, “look. i appreciate the gesture, ok? this was...” the words float around your mind, plucking it like magic. “-- sweet. but we have to _save_ money now. we don’t have access to all of the same amenities as before.”

zagreus still doesn’t manage to meet your gaze, nodding slightly, taking the plates in the same silly manner as when he entered before the both of you leave the room.

the town was quaint enough, dirt roads flattened by the hooves of mules and the feet of men, a district for shrines of the gods, and a whole avenue for food and shops. zagreus leads you towards an innocuous restaurant, one with the seediest little man you’ve ever seen. _oh zagreus_.

the man rubs his hands together villainously, upper lip sparse with facial hair and receding hairline emphasizing the shine of his baldness. “hello there, traveller, have you come back for more?” he raises his knives in ready for the next order.

zagreus grimaces, setting the wine and plates down onto the table nearest to the chef. “not quite. my friend has something to say to you.”

the chef blinks, registers the food before levelling his smarmy gaze onto you, as if realizing you were there for the first time. sneering once the realization came that you couldn’t be duped as easily as the poor prince. “what is it.” he sets the knives down, and crosses his arms, lined with muscle and looking too much like he could snap you in half. however, you are reassured by the presence of zagreus who was _definitely_ a million times stronger.

you gesture to the food aggressively - “ _two_ dekadrachm for _that_?” it’s difficult to not let accusation flood tone, but the two of you had a particularly stressful day yesterday and felt entitled to the bit of snappishness that came along with hunger and exhaustion. the chef, understandably so, was offended by the tone of voice, by the sheer aggressiveness of tone, and the status of occupation that was easily seen by the state of your clothing. it was clear, from first glance, that you were a servant. a servant for a goddess, but a servant nonetheless.

he sneers at you, smarmy eyes and demeanour completely different in comparison with how he spoke with zagreus. it takes you aback slightly (even if its something that you’re well-aware about, lady persephone and zagreus had always treated you as an equal...) the chef gives you a once-over that makes both you and zagreus bristle. “ _tch_. what do you know about quality? you’re a mere _servant_ , probably content to eat food off of the ground like a stray dog.” he spits on the ground, a sign of dishonour that makes your hands clench and brows knit together.

how rude. does he think you went into service like _this_ because you wanted to? partly, _yes_ , you wanted to thank the goddess for her willingness to allow you into her fold. but a lone, traumatized individual fresh from the horrors of desecration and war -- you were a lamb ripe for the picking. it was _necessity_.

hot shame curdles in your chest, tears pricking your eyes. zagreus notices your distress, the way your shoulders curled slightly forward as if to protect yourself, and its almost boyish the way he plucks at the back of your chiton. you have half a mind to allow him to go off on the chef, but you stop yourself - you cannot always rely on the prince to fight your battles.

so you swallow the bile down and straighten, zagreus’ knuckles bumping against the curve of your back. “i may not know much as a servant, but i do know my way around food. how would your customers feel if they figured out that you’ve been stinting them on the meat? that you use fats to thicken your stew to waste less ingredients? or that you’ve been swindling them for far too much money? servants are not good at many things, but they are good at gossip.”

your little tirade was loud enough to garner the attention of potential customers who look at the restaurant and the food that had been laid out for view pleasure with a grimace before swerving and moving away to other restaurants. the chef, of course, notices this, panic evident on his features, shushing you quickly.

the speed that it took the other to fold surprised the both of you, even more so with the way he tossed the dekadrachm onto the ground for you to pick up, plumes of snow tossed in the air by the action. zagreus looked rightly mad with the careless way the coin was given back, teeth gritted and body posture leaning forward, but you got what you came for and that was enough.

cheerfully, you hook arms with him and with no small amount of effort, yank him away before starting a morning brawl with the wrong person. “what the---- i was going to give him a piece of my mind!” there’s a brief moment of struggle before he acquiesces with the stern look levelled at him, not bothering to unwind his arm from yours. too much like a guard dog barely leashed. “you shouldn’t let people walk all over you like that.” crest-fallen, sad, indignant on your behalf, which was flattering, but.... you round the corner, nose lured by the smell of baked bread and cheese brought to you by the gentle winter breeze, something that had your mouth watering.

even if stew was something _nice_ , winter had always begged for baked bread and it was a good staple to have on journeys. “oh shush. enough of that business.” you say dismissively, coins jingling in your pouch, as you stop before the quaint bakery. 

the main baker was a dark-skinned woman, dark eyes gleaming like tilled earth and smile reminiscent of the snow. her hair, voluminous and curled, was held back with two strips of faded-green cloth that characterized the average grecian woman’s hair adornments. “hiya! how can i help you both?”

you lean in, peering at her exquisitely-made bread and pastries, a block of cheese on a clay tablet nearby. zagreus mirrors you, as you rub your chin in careful consideration. “your bread looks so... well-made.” you praise, mouth watering once more. “crispy, fresh, and warm -- family recipe?” 

the woman laughs, a jovial sound that makes you flush slightly. “you got that right! passed down for generations and _no_ , i’m not going to give it up just cuz a pretty face asked me to.” you think she was talking to zagreus who had moved further down the display to eye one of the pastry makers make their desserts, but she chuckle-snorts at you. “not _him_ , was talking about you.” 

oh. you stare wide-eyed, straightening and blushing hot enough that you couldn’t feel the cold of demeter’s winter settling on your unfortunately-unprepared self. “oh. i...” the words leave you easily, flapping your hands as subtly as you could. happiness? fluster? who knew. “erm, thank you.” the baker’s smile warms as she peruses her wares with a hint of lord hermes-esque mischief. zagreus notes this, the way your face warms in a way that is starkly different from the heat that comes from the chill of winter, lips spreading wide in a smile. your gazes meet and he wiggles his brow impishly, prompting a _look_ from you. he has the audacity to laugh out loud, laurels around his head flickering quickly before they fade back to a charcoal-black of inactivity.

“here you go!” the baker prompts your attention, holding out a clay plate filled with bowls. “i snuck you in something extra, seems like your friend there is someone who tends to eat a lot, _on the house!”_ you blink owlishly at the plate, even moreso when she grabs your bag and carefully wraps the bread, cheese and _tarts_ to be used for travel.

“this is too much,” you say weakly, attempting to deposit the proper amount that would fit her services. she looks at the pieces in her hands, picking out 3 drachmae before pushing the rest back into yours.

“it’s alright. like i said: on the house!” she exchanges a warm smile with you before turning her attentions to other customers. you stare after her, starstruck - well, at least until zagreus loops his arm with yours, chuckling quietly.

“it appears you have the wiles of lady aphrodite, my friend.”

that has you flushing even harder, swatting his arm with a hand, “quiet, i was merely... taken aback. that’s never happened to me before.” there’s a sense of giddiness in your chest. of course, you have never had... interest directed at you, so suddenly having it was... flattering! (if a better word could be found...) your eyes flicker about, spying the coy glances that passerbys tossed zagreus, men and women alike, eyeing him with an interest that he seemed oblivious to. a smile graces itself on your features, craning your neck to whisper, “and besides - i’m not the only one with the wiles of lady aphrodite. it seems that you have _fans_.”

as if for the first time, zagreus lifts his head and looks around, finally noticing the looks and the stares. a faint pink tinged the pallour of his cheeks. “oh.” the smallness of the word makes you snicker, and the way he waves almost shyly to a group of men and women, nearly has you cackling. “stop that! this is... new to me. this interest.”

you both are nearing town square, heading towards the shops that boasted more travel-appropriate items. you hoped that you could trade some of your nicer chitons for weapons and travel-clothing. but that wasn’t at the forefront of your mind. “wait, so you’re telling me this interest...” you gesture at the people doing double-takes at zagreus, brow arched, “is a new thing?”

zagreus shrugs lightly, “i mean: i _guess_ i had people interested in me, and i them, but... you know, majority of people i interacted with were either my cousins, assholes or not a viable romantic interest.”

well, the cousins part made sense, he was related to the olympians, but the other two had your interest piqued. “i see. well, who was your first interest?” you had arrived at the avenue with all the shops, bustling with patrons and exploding with colour in spite of the temperature. various shop-owners displayed their jewelry and pots proudly, haggling with customers and counting drachmae with greedy fingers. 

the prince ducks his head, avoiding a low-hanging banner, face contorted as if not sure he was willing to reveal his secret or not. you’ve learned to be patient with him because you knew that he was comfortable with you and that he usually needed to work up the courage to talk about personal things such as this. (not that love or _crushes_ was ever a topic you had tread upon.) “My first interest was... achilles.”

you think you misheard, nearly stumbling over a loose stone, looking at him in confusion. “achilles as in... ‘fought in the war at troy’ achilles? theeeeee.... ‘ended a whole war because his _philtatos_ died’ achilles? _that_ achilles?” zagreus nods at all of that, as you absent-mindedly go to the nearest clothing shop, running fingers over the cloaks and furred boots. “seriously?”

“as serious as death.”

“huh.” you weight the cloak before holding it out to measure it against the width of the prince’s chest. “well, he was a looker, good choice. did he reciprocate?”

zagreus allows himself to be measured, “no, his heart had already belonged to another. it’s a long story.” he takes the cloak and hangs it over his arm, as you look for a size most appropriate to you.

“well, i mean we’re going to be stuck together for a while, so i guess i have time for long stories.” you selected something warm and good at bracing against the cold, haggling with the owner with the cheapest price possible before moving on to a blacksmith.

“how about you? who was your first interest?”

you look up from an arrow displayed, thumb stroking the tip. “i don’t think i had any, i mean? there was a noble a long time ago, but i think it’s been a long while since i’ve had interest.” you toy with the idea of buying another weapon, even if it made your skin sweat and crawl. “do you think we’ll need another weapon?”

the cloak looked dashing on him, furred and lining the broadness of his shoulders attractively. a wayward travelling prince. “i don’t think so. you got your dagger and i got stygius - it’ll be fine.” that was true, and besides, if things got bad - you trusted zagreus to keep you safe. 

by the time you had returned to the inn, night had fallen, the sun dipping below the horizon and townsfolk scurrying back to their warm homes. you both were exhausted, despite just shopping, and lugging your wares for the night. a travelpack, dried food, medicinal supplies, and proper travel clothings. it was a good haul, if you were being honest. thank the gods that one of your skills involved haggling.

you stretch, rubbing your eyes, as you opened the door to your shared room ---- only to scream once you realized that _someone_ was in the room. zagreus barrels past you, fists raised and eyes sparking with anger, pausing at the sight of hermes. “ _hermes?_ what in hades are you doing here?”

the initial shock wore off and now that you had time to _truly_ study the other, there was a sense of otherworldliness that makes your insides tremble. his scarf floated around unnaturally, winged sandals fluttering to allow for him to float. lord hermes waved playfully, “hey boss! i knew that i would find you here. i tried looking for you at the cottage once i realized that the protections were down, and hooowe! what a mess that place was, crawling with satyrs.” the god spoke fast, not bothering to pause for breath. “and whoooo do we have here?” suddenly, he was in your face, eyes scanning over your features and breaching your boundaries. if it was anyone else, you would’ve shoved the back, but since this was an olympian... you let him have his fill of staring.

zagreus clears his throat loudly, “that’s my friend, lord hermes. we managed to escape the attack by the satyrs - is there a reason why you’re here?”

parcels overflowed his messenger bag, fluttering to the ground before fading away, lord hermes looked through it all, humming to himself. “well, coz, the family is in a bit of a tizzy right now! especially demeter, persephone had disappeared, and well, we heard some more troubling news! she disappeared in an area where it’s heavily shielded by magic. we suspect that the satyr cultists originate from there. we _would_ go and raze it, buuuuuut there’s just too many.” he was far too nonchalant, barrelling on despite the fact that zagreus was still fixated on the part where his _mother_ had disappeared. “anyways, i’ll give you one of my blessings.” lord hermes placed a hand on zagreus’ head, his entire being shining like a beacon, dazzling you before it dies down.

where hermes once was, he no longer was there, leaving a map behind.

sparks of light danced on zagreus’ body, face grim. “my mother disappeared.” he says quietly, sitting down on the cot and draping his forearms on his knees. you let him sit, bending down to grab the map and read it. it looked like a long, arduous journey - _perilous_ , judging by the marks that indicated great danger. he sighs loudly, looking up at you, face pained. “you should stay here. it’s safer.”

the paper crinkles underneath your hands and you take a moment to set it onto the table, curling into fists once they were freed. “i don’t care. i’m coming with you!” you shake your head firmly, “i pledged my service to lady persephone and now, i pledge my service to you.” you drop down to one knee, fist against your heart. “prince zagreus, son of hades, son of persephone, charge of the goddess nyx, i swear that i will do everything in my power to help you.”

he looks soft, pulling you up to your feet and hugging you tightly. “ok, ok. we’re in this together. we have a long day tomorrow, let’s rest.” true, you were terrified. but you were determined to help zagreus and find his mother. then this family would find the peace they deserved. you arrange yourself in a familiar position, curled on your side with zagreus behind you, carefully wrapping an arm around your waist, he murmurs out a quiet _good night_ , something that you return and allowed your eyes to flutter shut.

* * *

you’re awaken by a beam of sun hitting your shut eyes. a groan leaves your lips, as you push yourself into a sitting position. zagreus, like yesterday morning, was not there - his spot cold to the touch. maybe he was off getting breakfast from the nice baker. your body finally starts aching less, and you stand up, ready to wash your face to prepare for the rough journey ahead.

but something was off. half of the travel supplies were gone, stygius was gone, the map was _gone_. your mind was slow to alarm, but once the dots had clicked, anxiety rose like an unrelenting crash of waves upon the shores. “what the...” you look for the things, the conclusion settling itself onto your mind, before your attention is captured by a piece of parchment on the table. you lift it up and begin reading it:

> _when you wake up, you’ll find that half of the things are gone and i’m sorry for that. but the journey is too dangerous, i can’t have someone i care about get hurt for me. i want you to stay there and wait for my return, i won’t be long._
> 
> _\- zagreus._
> 
> _ps. i borrowed myroclus for the time being._

you read the words over and over until they’re tattooed behind your eyelids. then rage swells in your throat, releasing in an angered yell, as you bang your fist onto the table, shoving it so that it fell to the side.

that _bastard_ , that arrogant, little ... prick! you can make your own decisions for yourself. you didn’t need some _prince_ to decide what was good for you and what wasn’t. **argh!**

it takes you a few minutes to stop screaming into the cot before you stomp down to the stables and yank the nearest stableboy to your face, seething. “i am **very** angry. did someone take my horse? about this tall, laurels around his head and mismatched eyes?”

the stableboy quakes and nods, “sir told me not to tell you, he took the horse and travelled out.”

“ _where_?” he shrugs and you release him, tears brimming your eyes. how could he do this to you? how could he leave you behind? in a town with no friends and no one to turn to for help ---

you stop, spine straightening as you stare into the open air. _you knew someone who could help you_. your steps take you straight to the baker who was already getting ready for the day’s rush, she turns her head to smile at you, only for it to fall at the sight of the tears on your face. “----Thisbe? i’m going to go out for a bit, someone needs my help.” deep within the bakery, someone calls out an affirmative.

the baker grabs your hand and pulls you into her home, and seats you on a chair. she busies herself with brewing tea and grabbing bread, “you look like a mess, what’s wrong?”

you take the offered cup of soothing tea, tasting honey on your tongue before explaining everything that had happened. well, omitting the part about hermes and satyrs and so on. you look to the ground, eyes brimming with tears, “i thought he trusted me. but he left me here... i don’t have money or a horse or anything!” your hands cover your face, crying quietly.

she is silent for a long moment and she leaves your side. you think she’s going back to the bakery to ready for customers while you cried your heart out. but the sound of metal hitting together has you looking up. “here. this should be enough to last you until you hit the next town. if you go into the stables near here, the guy owes me something. he’ll give you a horse.”

she guides you to your feet, laughing at how baffled you look. “why are you helping me?”

the baker holds your hands, squeezing gently - “when i was trying to escape war, someone did the same for me, helped me start my life back up. i don’t know why, but it feels like lady hestia is telling me to help out. to... pay it forward.” 

you dry your tears with the back of your hand, “can i know your name? not just... for the guy to know, but so that i can remember the person who helped me.”

“menelaia,” menelaia leans forward and kisses your cheek gently, placing a piece of bread into your hands and nudging you outside. “go get that stubborn prince back.” you nod and rush out of the bakery, pledging to come back here to return everything to menelaia.

true to form, the man at the stable offered you a hardy steed. a chestnut stallion with a midnight black mane and a fire in his eyes. “he’s tough and fast, trust in him.” you stroke the horse’s side, “his name is amydros, he will get you to where you need to be.”

you place a saddle pad over your horse’s back, amydros nickering quietly, patient. you were pleasantly surprised to find that your stay had been paid for, but that made you that much more determined to catch up to zagreus and give him a piece of your mind.

the sun had scarcely risen above the frost-covered trees, amydos hitting the snow-covered ground with his hooves. you didn’t exactly remember the entire contents of the map, but you knew that he was headed to the next town. hopefully it had a temple to hermes, just so that you could pray to him and ask for help. (help with wringing zagreus’ neck until he got sense back).

your heels dig into amydos’ sides, prompting the horse to run down the well-beaten path of the open countryside, the next town scarcely able to be seen. as long as you stayed on the path, you’d be fine, you hoped...


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you meet a dryad in the woods, get a magic ring that tells you your heart's desire, which leads you straight to thanatos? what the hell is going on!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EHEHEE! another update! sorry for the lateness. i have like... 3 research papers due and it has been stressing me out. but i did like working on this chapter, it was fun to see than again hehe. also thank you for the comments and kudos! keep them coming - i love seeing ppl freak out about chapters LMAO.

innocence, like all things, succumbs to the touch of death and time - both in conjunction and never _not_ coexisting with each other. it was a difficult pill to swallow at times, but the naivety of childhood could never weather the storm that the real world presented. a _sad_ notion, but a necessary one. your thighs had ached and chafed with the hours of riding upon amydros - you had never ridden this far nor this long without rest. “alright, let’s rest.” you say aloud, pulling on the reins until the horse trots to a stop, towards a bend in the path where you slid down its back, and tied the leather strips around a sturdy branch.

even if winter had always made you nervous on principle (you’ve heard stories of bodies contorted in the throes of winter as lord thanatos had claimed their souls, or of crops failing and leaving a town starving for the next spring), you find relief of the cold on your aching muscles, a brief respite really. By then, your anger had cooled and subdued into a faint irritation. You were never someone who could hold their anger for a sustained amount of time without being weary.

with the edge of the cloak, you brush off gently-fallen snow off of the surface of the flattest rock you could find there, and carefully made sure that the cloak was at your bottom before sitting down. you had always taken your oaths seriously, always taken the truth seriously, but now? amid the snowy emptiness, placing yourself at the forefront of your secret fears of having to traverse the outside world without a safety tether was frightening.

maybe zagreus thought that your inherent fears would force you to remain in the town? _that_ hypothesis makes you flush with indignation, crumpling the cloak between your hands. how _dare_ he?! you weren’t... some... some civilian in distress that needed saving, you were an independent person capable of holding their own in any scenario.

“maybe lord hermes could glean more answers?” despite the distance between the two towns, you found that they held a camaraderie with each other that resulted in frequent trade during the warmer months and therefore, you had managed to catch the information that there was a rather robust temple dedicated to lord hermes. it makes sense, traveller towns tended to venerate that god above all else, well, the aspect of travelling at least. amydros nickers quietly, ears flicking. 

“at least you listen.” you stand up before the chill could seep through clothing and onto skin, walking over to stroke the strong flank of your horse. “zagreus never _bothered_ to listen. always talking, always stumbling through conversation like a newborn fawn...” your hands curl into fists, pressed against the warm fur. “--- but he was always so kind.” zagreus’ warm smile came to the forefront of your mind, mismatched eyes twinkling like stars. “always made me feel like i was... like i was an equal.” 

by then, a flush rises to your cheeks. “and he is, erm, handsome... and sweet and endearing. like a puppy!” a look up and you see amydros leveling a rather judgemental look. as if to say: _really? you were angry at him and now... you’re gushing about him_

you slap your cheeks hard enough for it to sting, shaking your head. That was... a moment of weakness! you were still incredibly angry with him and you were going to give him a piece of your mind. Once you saw him. Then you’d hug him tightly because you were worried. zagreus did not know how terrible mortals could be, and you’d feel a lot better with him around.

_you are alone...._

amydros, to the horse’s credit, does not rear back in alarm at the voice that echoed around the clearing. too much like anura, you hold your steed’s reins close, heart thundering to the beat of amydros’ panicked breathing. even then, the most prominent thought that manages to sluice through the anxiety was: _again?!_

a nearby tree creaks, a mighty oak standing tall and bereft of its leaves, yet it shifts - the whorls on its trunk shifting into the closest approximation of a face. a dryad, an ancient, prideful one, if you had to guess. but most of all, something within your chest eases gently, unfurling like the drying wings of a butterfly. as though you were a child that had roused from a nightmare and found solace in their parent’s arms. they were good. above all, this dryad was a kind one, you could tell.

the stiffness of your shoulders lowers slightly, the smile upon your lips warm and assured. “gentle dryad, it is... wonderful to see you in spite of this bitter winter.” you never forget your manners and rifle through your bag, extracting a slice of bread that was given by menelaia before you left, and held it out - an offering to a near-god.

the dryad shifted its eyes to peer at the bread before the trunk cracks open with a thunderous sound, a gnarled wooden arm unfolding from the depths of the tree like an insect leg that carefully plucks the offering from your hand and returns. the air warms briefly, a signifier of its delight, its ineffable gratitude at recognition. nowadays, people forgot to thank the everyday spirits that resided in this world, ones that aided the gods and kept the earth and oceans as verdant and thriving as it was. “ _thank you, sapling.”_ it speaks in an ancient tongue, one that you should not understand, but with the magic of the divine, you were able to. a language so ancient, and so lost, it made your bones shudder at its strangeness. “ _you seek someone_.”

you nod, eyes downcast. “yes.”

“ _a precious someone_.” they say gently, a rumble of thunder in the distance, and you cannot help the aching smile on your face. “ _someone you care and adore_.” they unfurl your heartstrings and read between the lines like the ancient rings of its home. wise because of its years and kinder because of it.

“yes. how did you know?” sometimes things weren’t meant to be asked, but you couldn’t help questioning this matter of mind-reading. “is it that obvious?”

a branch creaks downwards, a lone green leaf brushing over your hair, “ _love is the easiest to see, always so bright and vibrant. yet...”_ it brushes away a tear at the corner of your eye. “ _you are filled with such a terrible sadness, sapling_.”

and you chuckle at that, tilting your head, “since when is that a new thing? are not all living things with terrible sadnesses?” you grab your arms, crossing them and rubbing them as a way to comfort. “he left me behind. to protect me from whatever evil this journey will birth. but i was ready to be there next to him! i was ready to protect him in my own way.” you weren’t exactly sure what that looked like, but you were prepared to sacrifice - after all, it’s not like you had much at stake.

the dryad stares at you, eyeless sockets like the void, but infinitely more comforting. before it sighs, “ _i will help you_ \--”

“why?” you interrupt, cautious as ever.

“ _i do not have long on this realm and you were the first being that had shown me kindness, is it not fitting for one birthed from love to return love?”_ the ground breaks, a root curling upwards, breaking through the winterfrost that made it forest floor unmoveable. upon closer, you see a circle of gold hanging from the curve of the root. “ _forged from deep within the earths, when i used to boast more beauty than now. it is meant to guide you to your heart’s desire.”_

you look at the ring, the metal warm and lovely - as though you held your hands against a flickering hearth. “how does it work?”

it laughs softly, a whisper of a breeze, bringing the smell of spring before demeter’s winter dominates once more. “ _bring it close to your chest and allow your heart to guide you, the ring will show you the way_.” you pull back and offer your gratitude with a smile, a nod, watching as the dryad heaves one more mighty sigh before the trunk seals shut and the face fades into obscurity, once more like the trunk it was before.

you stand there, the ring clutched to your chest, just above your heart. it was strange to speak to a dryad that _wasn’t_ speio, shaking your head to dismiss the cobwebs of memory that persisted. there was no point in sinking into nostalgia, it was better to do so when everything calmed down.

as the dryad had instructed, you closed your eyes and allowed thoughts to fall away from your mind - leaving you with the blissful emptiness that allowed your heart to speak freely, without obstruction. the ring warms, hot enough that you grow alarmed, eyes snapping open and peering down at the metal. it shone like a miniature sun, whispering sweetly before a beam of light shoots forward, between the trees and to the great beyond. “what the---” your brows furrow, as you wave a hand through the beam of light, disturbing it like ripples of water, yet remains steadfast in the direction it pointed.

was this what the dryad meant by the ring showing you the path to your heart’s desire?

suddenly buoyed by the thought of your journey made easier, you grin and untangle amydros’ reins from the branch and leapt onto his back, kicking your heels into his flanks. “follow the light!” amydros tosses his head, kicking up dirt and snow underneath his hooves.

the woods thicken, branches so numerous that it blocked the sn, the darkness illuminated by the magical glow of the ring, casting away the shadows that lingered at the edges of your vision. it was wise to allow the both of you to rest, but wolves prowled about in these woods - that and untold dangers. and you weren’t willing to boast your admittedly-pathetic fighting skills.

you had been following the path of the light, unwavering, wind stirring your hair and breath frosting in the air - but then it veers sharply to the right, into a darker path. “shit!---” you yank on amydros’ reins to halt his run, backing him up until you were in full-view of the deviation of the path. “why here?” the ring is brought to your face, pulsating with warm life, pointing into the darker woods, the branches curling about like an archway. unnatural, yet not. 

was this your heart’s desire?

with the reins clutched tightly in your hands, you turn your steed towards the dark void of the path, branches and rotted wood curling about. amydros flicks his ear uneasily, and you stroke his neck carefully. “easy. there must be something there.” with a deep breath and no small amount of courage, you both turn onto the path.

the trail was craggy. interrupted by fallen branches, stones and grooves. this told you that it was a path not regularly traveled by horse or by man, a thought that does not comfort you. after all, danger does not only lie with the mortal realm.

the thought to turn around arose the deeper you went down the path, but considering how tight the squeeze was, it wasn’t an option. trees shuddered, darkness encroaching and stifling enough that you couldn’t breathe. visions of red and crimson flashed before your gaze, screams shrilling in your ears, body shaking and fists curled tightly enough that it bit into your palms.

_red and gold, red and gold. only the union of gods and mortal so bold ---- can end this all._

blood flooded your mouth, spilling down your chin, and when you think you cannot handle anymore... you stumble into an open meadow. the air was still, the grass and flowers frosted, yet alive - suspended between life and death. purple butterflies floated about, lingering at your side before floated off. the ring warms, the light pointed towards the figure standing in the middle, draped in reaper’s cloth and scythe held like a harbinger above the hood of lord thanatos.

he looked surprised by your appearance, just as you were by his. “what are you doing here? and... where is zagreus?” lord thanatos looks past you, expecting to see the prince stumble after you, but after realizing that he wasn’t there, golden eyes snap to you.

you slide down with shaky legs, wiping the blood away with the edge of the cloak, approaching lord thanatos and dropping to a knee. the cold immediately sunk into your knee, head bowed. “lord thanatos, i did not expect to see you here.” nor did you expect to have the ring show thanatos to be your heart’s desire, but you kept that fact wisely to yourself, face reddening. “---the prince isn’t here. he left me behind at a town, intent on pursuing his---” you pause, lifting your head before pushing yourself to your feet. was it wise to reveal why zagreus left? or were you going to set things in motion that should not occur.

“well?” he asks impatiently, his features deadpan, yet betraying enough that you knew it was better to speak. besides, zagreus had always spoke about the steadfastness of thanatos, about how he was to be trusted. you quickly pray that he was right.

“prince zagreus went to pursue his missing mother. in a place heavily shielded by magic. lord hermes had given him a map and i intended to follow, but he left me behind. i was given this,” you show the glowing ring, the beam of light disappearing into the darkness of his garb, “and it led me to you. it was meant to show my... heart’s desire.” it was said fast, yet your face warms. “the times are growing stranger, my lord...”

lord thanatos takes everything in, eyes falling shut in thought. “mmm. interesting, this is quite troubling news.” he hovers above the flowers, brows furrowed in a tight knot. death incarnate does not speak for some time, long enough that you shift in place uneasily. "things are changing. things are not dying and ancient evils are speaking within the wells of tartarus. zagreus' mother disappearing is the first step. the olympians will not intervene unless they need to," lord thanatos says this with a curl to his lip, derision evident. "instead they will use zagreus and whatever foolish individual that follows as tools."

(you suspect that he's speaking about you...)

"nonetheless, we cannot leave the fool to die. or meet a fate unknown." his scythe swishes in the air, purple eye blinking at you magnanimously. "i will aid you in your quest, groundskeep." lord thanatos was an imposing figure and to have him as an ally was.... well, it was comforting. there was no figure, no deity feared more, than this god before you. even the olympians feared what he could do; for through his touch, they could find their deaths as well.

"wait--- you're helping _me?_ " your mouth drops open in shock, and _this!_ coming from someone who had threatened you weeks ago....

lord thanatos arched a brow, "was i unclear in my declaration? i'm going to help you find zagreus and subsequently, his mother. it is a pain to have things... not die." there's something in his eyes that told you that there was something more to this, but you don't pry. the machinations of gods were not your concern. "i will speak with lord hermes and see if he could replicate the map he gave zagreus, let your magic ring guide you to him. meanwhile, here." lord thanatos reaches into his chiton, producing a small, little tattered mouse. patchworked with fabric and soft to the touch. it nestled comfortably in the circle of your arms. 

"... what is this?" you look up at death incarnate, cocking your head. why... was he giving you a child's toy?

much to your surprise, his cheeks took on a gentle, gold hue. as though he was embarrassed by your question. “his name is _mort_ , use him if you are in trouble, and i shall come to your aid. but! only when you need it, i cannot always come. find zagreus, do not fail me. and, groundskeep? this is between us.” lord thanatos says this threateningly before disappearing in a flash of green light, temporarily causing spots to appear in your vision.

you are left alone, the earth heaving a sigh at the departure of death. the air stirred once more, the darkness lifting slightly and the strange, purple butterflies that danced in the meadows were gone. you looked at the little mouse, large enough to carry comfortably, and soft too! a quick look around told you that you were alone, save for amydros grazing nearby and took a slight sniff of the toy. 

it smelled of... lavender. of ash. the two smells of your dead town that dominated your nose. but instead of filling you with grief, you were filled with a strange sense of peace. you place mort at the bottom of your bag, where it wouldn’t fall out by accident and leapt once more onto amydros’ back.

the path that you had entered was brighter now, less stifling. the ring flickered to life and pointed northward - towards the town that menelaia had spoken about. you kick your heels and amydros thundered towards where he needed to be.

yet even with the ache of your thighs, the burn of your lungs, your thoughts went back to the god. what did he mean by things not dying anymore? what evil speaks in tartarus? perhaps these questions would be better answered with an oracle or a seer - if the town had any. “let’s hope we find zagreus by then,” you say aloud, amydros’ ear flicked back at you in acknowledgement.

but you weren’t _that_ worried, zagreus had a way of avoiding trouble.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> zagreus gets in trouble, you and than try to help him, and wow! you figure out that the world is gonna be fucked up unless the three of you do something about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYYYYY! wow, my update was literally more than a month ago. ill try not to make it last this long again, but uni and finals really took up the rest of my time T_T. anyways, this chapter was fun because i got to finally introduce more of the plot and huehuehuehue, get your seatbelt fastened, folx!

there’s something striking in his loneliness. after centuries of being alone, of being made to fend for himself, having the groundskeep, having mother, having _life_ around in such an enduring swath was like being doused in cold water. myroclus was _not_ pleased with the idea of leaving his favourite moral behind, but carried onwards with the dogged stubbornness of someone complying, but with the weariness of the begrudgingly listening.

he had only had rudimentary training, the scant few times where he had ridden myroclus clumsily under the watchful eye of his mother’s help. while he did catch onto things quickly, but comparing you and him was laughable. his thighs chafed and if he wasn’t careful, the hanging branches sliced at his cheeks, caught in his hair. perhaps a petty revenge for myroclus in honour of the one he had left behind cruelly. 

after the umpteenth branch that smacked his face, his cheeks throbbing, zagreus yanked on the reins to pull the horse into a halt. with no end to the trail, forward and backward, he figures that he could afford a bit of time to rest. well, allow the horse to eat the sparse foliage that still lingered in spite of demeter’s winter. myroclus should be given some time to cool off before the horse does something drastic like buck the prince off a cliff.

( looking at those beady, little eyes... it’s a possibility... )

zagreus _does_ feel a bit bad on leaving the mortal behind, but it was to protect them! he knew that they did not have a mean bone in their body and the greater likelihood was them dying, and there’s only so much he could do once they were dead. besides, as mean as it was to say, they would be too much of a liability in the search for Mother. myroclus yanks on his hair, snuffling - the pain was sharp and almost-debilitating, and it’s a miracle that clumps didn’t rip out. but he dances away from the creature, clutching his head. “I said I was sorry already!”

he pulls out the map that Hermes had given him, drawn the the preciseness of an expert cartographer, lines dark and crisp, and parchment lively under his hands. As though it lived, but Hermes was a strange sort, imbuing the piece of paper with his brand of magic - the lines writhing and moving, the drawn birds flapping across the page. zagreus has to duck his head, just to avoid another snap from myroclus who snuffled before returning to gnaw on some branches, a paltry substitute for greenery. he makes a note in the back of his mind to see if he could buy some feed for the horse. 

once myroclus had calmed down enough for zagreus to be able to pat down his flank and mount him, he sets off to the path that the map had listed out that he had to go to. this desolation, born of his grandmother’s fury of mortalkind, was strange - itched under his skin. And now that hermes _and_ thanatos had first mentioned it, he was far more aware of the _wrongness_ of the state of the world.

(teeth gnashing in animalistic fury, a deep-rooted discomfort that did not seem to go away. shrieking - **WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG** )

but the prince is startled from his musings from the sudden stop, lurching forward fast enough that air is knocked from his lungs. annoyance saturates his tone as, “alright, mate, i’ve been patient with you----” however, the words halt in his mouth, barricaded behind his teeth as jaw clicks close. this was the next town yet..... _yet ?_

it was empty.

the wind howled through the buildings, snow piled fresh on the ground, unbothered. zagreus kicks his heels into myroclus’ sides, yet no matter how hard he tried, the beast did not move forward - shuffling before the town gate uneasily. his ears pricked back, stamping the ground in his nervousness. even if horses, in general, were skittish creatures, myroclus was bolder than most and _that_ was enough for caution to skyrocket.

he slides down, patting the horse’s flank, “ok, i got this. just stay here.” myroclus nickers, something that zagreus takes as assent.

every step he took was enough for the snow to melt, leaving behind wet grass and dirt that sizzled for a brief moment, as he passed through the town entrance - two pillars stacked high with iconography of hermes dashing on top.

zagreus kept his gaze sharp, the boundless energy of his cousin sparking in his veins, breath held just so that he could not mistake the wind for an enemy combatant. yet the moment he reaches town square, he lowers stygius, standing in front of the frozen fountain. “hello?” the prince’s voice echoes, and no one responds.

perhaps this was a ghost town? ones that had been abandoned because of plague or war. but that couldn’t be true because if that was the case, then the neighbouring town would either have been affected as well or at least made the necessary preparations to save themselves. he passed through the residential area, still on high-alert, but calmed by the fact that he was alone.

a cough in an open house makes him pause, mis-matched eyes flickering towards a house near the corner. zagreus approaches it, notes the gouges in the doorframe and the way the door swung open and close in eerie creaks. inside, he sees someone curled on the ground, their body heaving weakly with breath. he drops his blade, propping it on the wall before kneeling next to them, flighty hands fluttering over their form. 

“oh gods, are you ok? are you---” zagreus turns them on their back, only to recoil in disgust, eyes wide as he stumbles back. the mortal, the _human_ , if it could be called that, looked **wrong**. their skin was like a corpse’s, heading on its way to decay (jaw almost falling, flesh peeling off, black blood dropping down their dirties chiton), and most of all, a malefic magick permeated from them - an ungodly sort of craft that could terrify even the gods, send them to the pits of tartarus.

the creature groans, the undead still made flesh, the result of when souls were not permitted to be harvested by its Reaper. an abomination.

he knows better than to allow it to continue on, so with a quick jab of stygius through the middle, the creature is impaled. yet... **yet**... it does not die with a shriek, the light fading from its eyes. it groans like Charon, clawing forward with gnarled hands. it cannot die, zagreus remembers, it cannot be killed.

with a powerful kick that slides the creature off his blade and into the opposing wall, he turns to leave the house. but as soon as he is in the streets, he realizes that the town is roused, that the unspeakable magic called for the dead, the abominations to rise forth.

mind-rending creatures shambled forward, slithered, crawled, clawed their way to him - salivating mouths gnashing for god-flesh. zagreus does not fear, but he is starting to see that he was in deep trouble. he slices and hacks of limbs, lobs off heads, blood sluicing his form and permeating the air in rot-stink. but none die, none are killed.

the only thing he could do is run and avoid or die and return to the underworld once again.

* * *

the wind stings your cheeks. you are a distance away from zagreus, and you’re not entirely sure how you could find him, _even_ with the ring that pointed you forward. _tch, what a zagreus thing to do! leaving me behind!_

but before you could complain anymore, lord thanatos appears at your side, easily keeping pace with amydros who, to the horse’s credit, did not startle at the sight of the god. you blink at death incarnate, “lord death?!” you yell, above the shriek of the wind and the stamp of hooves.

he looks distant, golden eyes glazed slightly, before snapping to yours. “zagreus is in trouble.” he says, almost troubled. before you can ask for clarification, death grabs the back of your cloak, and teleports you off your horse, ignoring your shriek.

amydros whinnies in alarm at the lack of weight on his back before slowing to a stop, looking around, and turning back to return to his original owner.

* * *

zagreus was pinned. no matter how much he cut, he sliced, he lobbed - they continued to come. intent on consuming his godhood, intent on destroying life itself. but the air rings with the toll of thanatos’ bell, and relief whooshes from his lungs as the sky quiets and death itself hovers in front of him in all of his glory.

.... alongside with the groundskeep who death incarnate had promptly dropped onto the ground with a soft ‘oof’.

“need some help, zagreus?”

“than--!” zagreus breathes out, stunned and delighted. even if the creatures were intending on killing him, they still stared stunned at the sight of the end of all things. with an entirely theatrical twirl of his scythe, the ground glowed with death’s circle - darkness and starlight gleaming before with a sweep, the creatures are sliced in half.

but... instead of the souls bleeding from their forms, nothing came out. black blood seeping into the snow, tainting it. still, the creatures growled and spat. and for the first time in a long while, zagreus could see thanatos’ eyes widen in shock. “they have... no souls...?”

they crawled closer and closer, and if death himself could not end them -- then what could? with a speed that rivalled hermes’, thanatos carries the mortal under his arm like a sack before drawing zagreus close and teleporting them out with another great toll of his bell.

the trio are found on a distant hill, the journey brief, but jarring. the groundskeep is dropped to the ground once more and allowed a few seconds of dry heaving to settle their stomach. “you... how did you get here?!” zagreus turns to the groundskeep, surprise and anger in one. 

they stand up on unsteady feet before turning to zagreus and slapping him on the face hard enough that his head turns. thanatos breathes in sharply, features darkening and moving closer but stopping at zagreus’ headshake. “you left me behind, you ass! i told you i was coming and i meant it!”

“i was trying to keep you safe, and _than_ , you brought them here!”

thanatos frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “they were.... persuasive. and even if i didn’t do anything, they would’ve gone ahead. besides, they have a way with dryads.” he nods his head at the groundskeep’s hand, the ring pointing directly at zagreus.

zagreus frowned at them both, “i was going to handle it---”

the mortal rolled their eyes, “oh _yes_ , you were handling it perfectly fine. being cornered by those _monsters_ really counted as fine. if lord thanatos didn’t sense that you needed help, you would’ve been dead by now.”

the prince looked ready to argue some more, but was halted by the way thanatos turned his body to look at the town in the distance. “enough of your squabbling. the bigger concern is what is going on. those creatures...”

“they couldn’t die.” zagreus mumbled, wiping the black blood with the edge of his cloak. “i tried killing them, but it didn’t work.”

“and _i_ couldn’t kill them.” the enormity of that statement was not lost on those there. if death, the personification of it, could not kill these creatures, then no one can. 

“you mentioned them not having souls, that makes no sense, how could something have no soul?” the groundskeep asked, arms wrapped around themselves to preserved warmth.

thanatos does not speak for a few long seconds, “i would say witchcraft. but... this is a level, a skill, that is beyond the means of mortals. even minor immortals as well.” he looked troubled, the frown severe on his features. “that must mean that there is a great evil that is rising or _attempting_ to rise and challenge the rule of the gods, and they are attempting to slight _me_. for who can win, who can lose, if armies cannot die. spitting in the face of the fates is what is happening.”

zagreus shakes his head, lifting up a hand. “wait, wait. i don’t get what’s happening. what are you _saying?”_

“what i’m saying is that something apocalyptic is going to happen, your mother is somehow connected, and if balance is to be restored, we must go stop whatever is happening.” thanatos thumbs the hilt of his sword, a self-soothing gesture that isn’t lost on the groundskeep and zagreus.

this was turning into... an entire thing. zagreus just wanted to be reunited with his mother, not be embroiled in this whole clusterfuck of trying to save the balance of the world. he runs a hand through his hair. “great. _great_. just what we all needed. what do we do first? Actually no, I can answer that. We take the groundskeep to somewhere safe and then we deal some death together.”

the joke fell flat, not even eliciting a smile from thanatos who looked at the mortal with a calculating look in his eyes. “no.”

zagreus’ eyebrows fly upwards. “n-... what do you mean by _no_?” the groundskeep looks just as surprised, luminous eyes wide.

“no as in the fates had weaved their destiny into what is happening now. they are meant to be a part of this and you nor I could stop history from playing out.”

the groundskeep was stunned, apparent in the way they took a step back, hands gripping the straps of their bag tightly. “wait-- i... i’m meant to be here? but i don’t have any combat experience or... anything else that could be considered aid!” they cry out.

thanatos shrugs, but his face is kind. “the fates weave the thread of your destiny and whatever happens, it is entwined with mine and zag’s.” his voice gentles, “... do not worry, groundskeep. you will be kept safe.”

_that_ seems to calm them enough to nod hesitantly, offering a slight smile. zagreus sighs, “alright. as much as i hate it, i know not to mess with your sisters. i’ll ask again. what do we do first?”

“you could---- remember when lord hermes blessed you?” the groundskeep whispers softly, “you could look for more blessings from the other gods.”

thanatos hums, “that sounds like a plan. make yourself more powerful because the fates know that this journey, this war, will not be easy. and perhaps, you could coax your relatives into giving the groundskeep some boons as well.”

zagreus nods his head, shoulders squaring. “alright. we find the temples, get the blessings, find my mother and stop whatever the hell is happening.”

both thanatos and the groundskeep laugh. “that’s one way of putting it.” thanatos says in amusement. “does the map have the temples on it?”

the prince opens the map, unfolding it, staring. he’s about to answer no, but it starts to waver before his eyes, instead of the map _just_ being the path he’s supposed to take, new lines start being added and the various signs of the gods appear in strategic places. the temples, he presumes. zagreus points to the nearest one, the temple of artemis - a distance into a dark forest, braved by only those desperate enough to seek her aid. “there. we go to lady artemis. but than, couldn’t you just teleport us there?”

thanatos raises a brow, “and risk insulting the gods? please, zagreus, i’d rather not. they like seeing people struggle for their blessing. it proves persistence.” he says it with a bit of disdain, there is no love lost between thanatos and the olympians.

“right. that would’ve been too easy.” he mumbles, turning in a circle before the groundskeep takes the map.

they look at it, mumbling to themselves, looking up and back to the map before pointing northeast. “there. we start there.” the ring flickers bright enough to catch their attention, shifting away from zagreus and towards where they pointed. “well... at least we have some added assurance in direction. we won’t get lost.” they try to sound cheerful, but it’s forced. “let’s move before darkness falls. gods knows what creatures lurk in the shadows.” 

the sun is at its zenith, when they step down the hill and towards the forest in the distance. they all move steadily, quiet before zagreus speaks up, “i could sing us some travel songs, orpheus taught me som----”

“ _no_.”


End file.
